


make it out alive

by TittyAlways



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen is an adult, Casino porn, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Porn With Plot, Tyki has morals, alternate universe - 1890s, mutual respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10235552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TittyAlways/pseuds/TittyAlways
Summary: Three years may not seem long when one spends them in a casino, but outside the world keeps turning. Tyki isn't so impervious to time as he might think, but his boy Allen Walker damn near has it on a leash.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the working title was ‘casino porn’ for months and im a bit offended that none of the titles i came up with for it since have quite matxhed the honesty of that lmfao. as a ‘birthday’ gift it’s hands down the best porn ive ever written and the longest anything ive ever completed. i almost feel like a bit of formality is in order lol so heres a weak ass dedication
> 
> id wholeheartedly like to thank eileen for being my idol of filth, lea for the tykillen support and patience with my spam and near-constant screaming, kai for being the timcanpy hypeman, the Squad™ for never telling me to shut up despite using the gc as an echo chamber, and evan for not only betaing but making me re-write an entire section for the greater good and also making me cry.
> 
> And it should go without saying but really really doesnt - this whole mess was written for rhianna and i honestly cant thank u enough for putting up with my shit for like five years?? six????? u deserve the best smut in the fandom and i hereby not-so-humbly present the most wholeheartedly consensual tykillen fic in existence. happy fukkin borkday lmfao

The first time Allen Walker entered the casino he was fifteen years old and Tyki didn’t know his name. Why the security guards hadn’t refused him entry was beyond him, but as soon as he joined Tyki’s table he understood. The way he spoke, the way he held himself… Even though his face was young he almost forced one to look past that when he talked. And when he gambled, too. Tyki didn’t much care how old the players were. Not when they had a handful of twenties on the table.

“All in,” the boy called in a last-ditch bluff to try make Tyki fold. Almost like he hadn’t heard the house rule before.

 _Dealer never loses, boy_. He didn’t say the words aloud but surely he didn’t have to. Not when his smirk could talk for him, or the ace in his sleeve. So Tyki called his bet with a cocky arched brow which turned incredulous when the boy showed his hand.

“Royal straight flush,” he announced lightly with the most innocent close-eyed smile Tkki had seen.

It made his blood boil, and not in an entirely bad way. How had he missed that? _How could he have missed that?_ Tyki _knew_ it was a cheat, knew he’d been had. The ace of spades sat warm against his wrist - the one in the smiling boy’s hand could only be a fake. And Tyki had _missed it._ He smiled, folded his hand. “Well played,” he accepted and pushed the pool towards the winner, who somehow now looked younger than ever. “Care for another round?”

The boy seemed to catch the burning sentiment in Tyki’s easy expression for he grinned and shook his head. “Better cut my losses here,” he admitted abashedly.

Tyki’s sharp eyebrow shot back up. “If you like,” he allowed. Well, there went his opportunity at winning it all back.

He stood with the pot and thanked Tyki for the game, which he surely did not expect. The manners on him were remarkable for a cheat, but Tyki perhaps wasn’t one to talk. Though playing dealer and playing cheat were two very different things and Tyki had been incredibly more rough-spoken as a cheat than he was as a dealer. But off that polite little boy went and Tyki watched him play two other tables from the corner of his eye before he decided to intervene, calling over a relief to take his place. Tyki brushed his jacket off and approached the roulette table, fixing his cuffs. The boy noticed his approach but didn’t acknowledge him until he was at his shoulder, hand grasping the boy’s elbow.

“Time to wrap this up,” Tyki announced, nodding for the man on the wheel to continue with his work. “Allow me to escort you,” he hummed and began pulling the boy away at a slow but firm pace, giving him enough time to gather his bets before being dragged along. In a light undertone he asked, “What possessed a child like yourself to pass time in an establishment like this, hm?”

“Well, why’d you let me stay?” the boy retorted with a grin.

They were approaching the doors and Tyki let his steps slow, hand easing up on the tight grip around the boy’s bicep. He turned a sharp smirk down to him and murmured, “Maybe I enjoy corrupting the youth. There’s not a single good man to be found working in a casino, boy.”

“Are you a bad man, then?” he asked, looking up at Tyki with eyes that were half playful, half curious.

“Probably not the kind you’d like to be friends with,” Tyki admitted with a dry laugh. After a moment’s consideration he added, “Or enemies, come to think,” before shooting the boy a smirk. “But aren’t I meant to be the one asking questions?” The boy shrugged abashedly and Tyki hummed, “How old are you, by the way?” There was really no way for Tyki to tell. So polite and well-spoken, and he held himself with a maturity far older than he looked. With hair as white as an old man’s, Tyki really had no idea what to make of him.

“Eighteen.” The response came with a smile so insincerely sincere that Tyki almost wanted to believe him. God, the things he would do to that grin if it were true.

“Nice try,” he commended with a consoling smile. “How about you come back to cheat some more when you have the papers to match, hm?” They stood at the doors and Tyki let his hand drop from the boy’s arm. He simply grinned and left without a word - just as children were wont to do when they were let off easy. Tyki really could not get a read on him, but that night continued without incident and bled into the next and the next and the next. Tyki didn’t think twice on the white-haired boy and when he did it was to wonder how such a child could stick in his mind.

But after a month, Tyki hadn’t considered him in a week. After two he’d all but forgotten. Come three and a flash of white hair was weaving its way around the casino, stopping to play a table here and there and Tyki’s mind was suddenly consumed by one thing. A white-haired boy far from eighteen who hadn’t bothered to leave a name.

Tyki waited until he’d made it to the roulette table before bothering to approach.

“I feel as though we’ve been in this exact same position before,” he mused, leaning a hand against the polished wood.

The boy looked up from his game and broke into the same close-eyed smile that seared beneath Tyki’s skin, impossible to read and and just as impossible to ignore. “Only,” he amended with a small laugh, “you were rather more physical with your approach.”

Tyki arched a brow dipped his head, leaning closer. “I’ve grown manners if you’ve grown older.”

It was the same smile that Tyki had last seen, so cheeky and obvious that what he said couldn’t be anything but a lie. “It could have been my birthday last month.”

“Could have been,” Tyki allowed, “but it wasn’t.” He brought his hand up to the boy’s arm, fingers firm around his bicep. “Really, how _do_ you keep getting in here?” Tyki mused as they walked, him ushering the cheat towards the doors.

“Well, I walk in,” he started blandly, “and no-one but you seems to mind that I do.”

“This is a licenced establishment,” Tyki insisted, feigning shock. “No way I could let a child wander about.”

“And here I thought you enjoyed corrupting the youth.”

Tyki’s sharp eyes shot down to meet his gaze, as challenging as it was teasing. “Maybe,” he mused slowly, expression sinking into something darker, “I do.”

This time when they made the doors Tyki steered the boy through them, didn’t release his arm until they were on the street and Tyki was leaning against the rough wall of the casino. He freed his hands to rifle in his pocket for a cigarette and matches, striking one before looking over the boy properly in the yellow light spilling from the windows. He didn’t leave this time. He waited patiently, hands tucked into his pockets and a small smile fixed to his young face.

“You’re pretty brave, boy,” Tyki commended around his cigarette, eyes locked on the flare of the match in his hands. He took small puffs and a long drag once it was lit, feeling the smoke fill his lungs and head with a warm relaxation. “Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he admitted, smoke swirling from his lips at the words. He turned his head to blow the rest of the drag away.

“I’m flattered you’d think at all,” the boy hummed, and it wasn’t cheek this time, but a return of that infallible politeness.

“Don’t be,” Tyki warned with a smirk. “Sticking around in my mind is…” he hummed slowly, eyes flickering up to meet the boy’s, “...rarely a good thing.”

“Often a bad thing doesn't mean _always,”_ he responded. Tyki wondered if that half-step closer was intentional or just an absentminded shifting of his feet. But this polite boy with his casually upright posture didn’t strike him as one to shuffle about for no good reason.

“Trust me,” Tyki murmured around his cigarette, eyes dropping away, “it’s a bad thing.”

“Hm,” the boy cocked his head. This time the step closer was certainly intentional. “I wonder if that’s true.”

Tyki scoffed, then huffed a laugh. “As stubborn as he is polite, the white-haired boy of the night.”

He laughed at that and came to lean against the wall beside Tyki. “Is poetry your day job?”

Tyki couldn’t help but laugh again. “Dealing is my day job,” he answered simply.

The boy tilted his head back to look up at the sky, dyed dull orange and red by the city lights. “But it’s night right now,” he hummed, contemplating.

“Then surely,” Tyki mused and blew out a long cloud of smoke, “my night job should never see the sun.” He cast his eyes to the boy beside him and asked, “How old are you?” He only half expected a response at all, and wasn’t surprised by what he heard.

“Eighteen.” Tyki shook his head and laughed quietly. He was silenced, however, by the boy’s next words. “What would you do if I was?” He was looking at Tyki with grey eyes that were nothing but sincere. Well, sincere with a touch of a taunt.

Tyki’s lips parted but he couldn’t think of a thing to say to that expression - to those eyes. So he shook his head and huffed a breath out in what might have been a laugh. He bought time taking a last long pull from the cigarette and dropping the butt, scraping it out with his shoe. “How about you ask me again when you’re old enough to follow through?” he hummed and shrugged away from the wall. “Have to get back to my day job,” he said with a smirk and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Was that a promise?” the boy asked, staying where he was while Tyki turned back to enter the casino.

“I don’t make promises, boy,” he tossed over his shoulder and brought a hand up to his brow as though to tip a hat. “Stay safe on the way home, now,” he hummed and stepped back into the warm casino.

Three weeks passed without incident - or, only the small incident here and there. Perhaps a better way to put it; few incidents had made the news. But the Millennium Earl was making plays against the largest contenders in the struggle for power which persisted in the underbelly of their city. He hadn’t bothered Tyki with the little people, content to let him run his cash-based casino and launder the money they had coming through. But things were beginning to require more… finesse. And a touch of drama.

“Suman Dark.”

“Anything else?” Tyki asked, not expecting an answer. The Earl liked his messengers to have the fear of god in them, which sometimes got a bit bothersome for Tyki when he needed more information than a name and photograph.

“Suman Dark.”

Tyki gave the skinny, unkempt street rat an unimpressed smile. “I won’t bite,” he entreated with a flash of teeth but sighed in a huff when the kid only looked at him with wide, scared eyes, lips sealed tight. “Okay, that’s all,” he allowed and leaned back in his chair, waving a hand in dismissal. “Scurry back into whatever hole the Earl dug you out from,” he commanded. The kid didn’t budge and Tyki pinned him with a hard look. It didn’t sway his resolute stance and the smell of his unwashed clothes was beginning to bother Tyki so he pulled his wallet from a draw and flicked a silver coin to him. “Get out.” It wasn’t a suggestion this time and the kid knew it. Tyki had never seen someone leave his office so quickly, the door shut tight on his heels. “Suman Dark,” he sighed and pulled a small notebook from his pocket, penning in the name. He held the photograph up, looked carefully over the man’s stubborn jaw an windswept hair. He had a killer’s eyes, but they weren’t a thing like Tyki’s. Tyki killed because he _liked_ it. Suman had a look about him that said he’d do anything to ensure his own survival. To what ends, Tyki couldn’t have determined from the simple photograph even if he’d cared.

 

“Are you from the Order?” The man was standing tense and scared and trying so hard not to show it, back to the third story window behind him. Tyki wondered if he should just push him. A little shove would do it, he was so tense. Tyki wondered if Suman would shatter when he hit the ground, or splat. But his little question was enough for Tyki to postpone the action - though the thought stuck warm and enticing in his mind.

Tyki tilted his head, placid despite the anxiety rolling off the turntail man in waves. “And here I thought you were _part_ of the Order,” he confessed amiably. “See, I represent a mutual friend of ours; the Earl of Millennium.” He fiddled lightly with the knife in his hand, twisting it on its tip between his fingers.

Suman Dark shuddered, eyes growing wide with recognition. “But I- but! I did everything he asked me to!” he reasoned, desperate and floundering. “And- and now the Order is coming after me too, because of that. _Please,_ believe me!”

“Whether I do or don’t is immaterial,” Tyki sighed, already bored. “If it really matters that much, I’ll tell you the truth: I don’t care. And nor does the Earl.” He grinned and flicked the knife to sit properly in his hand. “I’m just here as a messenger, after all.”

Suman seemed perhaps more confused than before, but a touch less desperate. “You have a message?” he asked, cautious to a fault.

“Oh yes,” Tyki confirmed solemnly. “Not for you, though.” He took a pace closer, as casual as the way he twirled the blade in his white-gloved hand.

“Shall I,” Suman swallowed, brushed the beaded sweat off his lip. “Shall I pass it on for you?”

Tyki hummed and smiled, halting a foot away from him. “You know,” he contemplated, “I think you might do just that.”

 

Several names came after, and each found its way from the book in Tyki’s breast pocket to the newspapers, crime scene images withheld. Tyki, of course, knew what the coroners reports would say. He read them anyway, to savour the feeling of a job well done. And it was entrancing to recall the crime as it was committed. Tyki wouldn’t say he liked killing - wouldn't say he _disliked_ it either, but that was neither here nor there. What he _liked_ was the feeling, the _sensation_ . Having a body writhe against his, tear against restraints. Muffled cries only made it more fun, but what he _loved_ was the _feeling._ Marking a body with his hands, bruising and cutting and knowing no-one else had hurt them like that. Leaving evidence that he’d been there. His touch was like a signature on a masterpiece reading _this is mine._ The coroners could have them once he’d finished. Tyki didn't much care for toys that broke so easily. And all he’d done to each was carve a single word across their chests. They’d each given in to that simple torture - one of them even died from shock before Tyki was finished.

It wasn’t like sex, though. A sharper, more base pleasure than that. And in any case, intercourse was often… uninspiring. He knew how to make it _fun,_ but it was rare to find a partner willing to take what he could give. And even when they were, they always lacked a certain… something. Killing was different. Rarely did people experience death before he came for them. And Tyki _loved_ taking that from them.

_Innocence._

What a strange little word. Fun to say. Fun to carve into someone’s struggling, dying body. Fun to destroy. Everyone had at least a little innocence in them. Most often they found it at the hour of their death.

Momentarily, Tyki’s thoughts flashed to that white-haired boy. He hadn’t snuck in for a while. Tyki almost missed him. He was bold - stupidly so - and asked questions like _I thought you enjoyed corrupting the youth?_ Still had the gall to look Tyki in the eye with such a ridiculous expression. _Sincerity._ Oh, that boy had plenty of innocence. Tyki may have stood by that he didn’t make promises, but there were some certain inalienable truths in the world. If you heated water, it boiled. If you cut someone, they bled. If that boy ever came to Tyki at an age where Tyki could live with himself, he would destroy that boy’s innocence.

It was uncanny, really. It was almost as though thinking about him _summoned_ him. That evening he returned to the casino, but at the time Tyki was too busy to care who he cheated. He let the boy have free reign for the moment while Tyki played his hand, but as soon as the game was finished and Tyki was glancing around for the boy’s iconic figure there was a quiet request from his shoulder.

“Deal me in?”

Tyki tilted his head back to catch the boy with an amiable expression, but it slid away when he saw his face. He was wearing that close-eyed grin, smiling like there could be nothing more to it than him wanting to play a round. He looked as though he was about to shatter into a million pieces. How dare he make Tyki responsible for this? Because now that he’d seen, he couldn’t ignore. So he huffed a small sigh and shook his head, standing. “Wait here a moment,” he instructed and moved in the direction of his office.

He hadn’t taken a step before he was stopped by a hand clenching his sleeve. That smile was gone and without it the boy just looked _wrecked._ “Please,” he faltered.

Tyki pried open his tight grip and gave him a small, calm smile. “You don’t need a game right now,” he chided. “I’ll be right back.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked with a weak laugh.

Tyki gave him a reprimanding look and reiterated, “Stay here. I won’t be long.” He went quickly to his office and found two crystal tumblers and a bottle of cognac he’d all but forgotten about. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself as he poured the glasses. “Killing gang members by night, helping distressed youths also by night.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink, considered, and then poured a significantly larger splash into his own glass. “The lengths I go to, to be a good person,” he hummed before snorting a laugh.

Leaving the bottle, he picked up the glasses and returned to the main room, sourcing the boy and finding him standing away at the edge of the room.

“Should we step outside?” he offered.

The boy glanced at him, then at the glasses in his hand before allowing, “Why break from tradition?” with a wry smile.

“My thoughts precisely,” Tyki hummed and led him towards the entrance, exiting the building and coming to lean against the wall in the same place he’d lit up a cigarette months before. He offered the boy the lesser of the two drinks and raised his own in a halfhearted toast before taking a sip. They stood in silence for a moment, each looking across the dark street and each as unprepared to break the silence. Tyki was content to let the boy speak when he was ready, enjoying the cool night air regardless.

“Death is a horrible thing, isn’t it?”

Tyki’s eyes slid over to him, quickly masking his surprise at the statement. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he lied ambivalently, content to let the boy talk himself out.

“A lot of people have been dying lately,” he murmured. His voice was dull and quiet but as Tyki watched his face remained inscrutable. His eyes darted up to catch and pin Tyki’s. “You’ve read, right?” he ensured. “In the papers. About the Innocence Killer.”

Tyki huffed half a laugh. “Right,” he confirmed and drank from his glass. “Not too sure about the name though,” he commented lightly. The boy stayed quiet for a long moment after that, taking careful sips from his drink. “Are you scared?” Tyki asked him, casting his eyes back across the street. He told himself it was because he didn’t like that look on the boy’s face. The truth was the opposite. He _loved_ that look on his face.

He didn’t answer the question though, instead said something Tyki couldn’t have expected. “I saw one of them,” he admitted, seemed to swallow something back. “The first man. Suman Dark.” Tyki’s body flooded with adrenaline like fire and ice together and his hand tightened around the glass, his pleasure awakening at the thought of being discovered. The thought of being _seen -_ and by this boy, no less. This one boy, whose existence overflowed with innocence. “I was on my way to meet him,” he admitted quietly, voice uneven. Something was falling into place in Tyki’s mind, something important, but the blood was rushing in his ears and he didn’t have the mind to think about it. “If I was a few minutes earlier,” he whispered, dull, “maybe I could have saved him.”

“Or maybe you would have died too,” Tyki offered. He couldn’t say it was true. Tyki couldn’t say _what_ he would have done, had their paths crossed that night.

The boy’s eyes slipped closed and he whispered, “But he was still alive when I got there. I tried, I-” He drew in a sharp breath and looked up at Tyki beseechingly. “I felt him die,” he confessed, jarred.

Tyki kept his expression somewhere between neutral and attentive but he could feel the demon inside him twisting and writhing with glee, thrilled to have touched the boy’s heart. He hadn’t known it at the time, but he’d _been there._ Tyki almost wished they’d met that night but he knew that the waiting game was so much more _fun,_ so much _better._ But still, he _needed to know._ “Did it change you?” he asked, turning to face the boy more attentively.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, face twisting into a strange expression. “I don’t know, I - I don’t _know!”_

“Hey,” Tyki calmed, lifting a placating hand. “Take it easy,” he commanded, brow pinching with feigned concern. “You’re alright.”

The boy locked his eyes on the glass in his hand, fingers white around the cut crystal. “I know,” he asserted. “I _know_ I’m okay, but I feel…” He trailed off, searching for a word. “...Angry,” he settled on, but it didn’t seem to suffice. His face twisted with the unfamiliar emotion again and this time Tyki recognised it. Wrath? No, not even that.

“Hatred,” Tyki murmured, eyes locked on his face as though it were a lost masterpiece. As he watched, something cleared in the boy’s expression like a wash of understanding. He glanced at Tyki with those wide eyes and Tyki offered him a small smile. “Now that’s something I’ll drink to,” he murmured and tapped the lip of his glass to the boy’s with a gentle sound.

He seemed to be struggling with something else, working out the words to say while he brought his own cup up to his mouth. “Everyone - who I’ve spoken to. About this,” he started haltingly. “They’ve said I should - that I’ll work through it or something,” he bit out with a scathing laugh. He tilted his head to look up at Tyki, questioning. “You say it like it’s a good thing. Feeling this… rage.”

“Do you _want_ to work through it?” Tyki returned calmly, hiding his smile behind another sip of brandy.

The boy’s expression darkened like a thunderhead. “Suman is dead,” he said plainly, angrily. “I’ll never forgive the person who did it.”

Tyki nodded and took a deep, warm breath, let the boy see his smile. “And nor should you,” he agreed. “Hatred isn’t a bad thing,” he stated, throwing back the last of the alcohol. “But keep a hold of it,” he warned, “lest it make you do something stupid.”

“Have you ever done something like that?” he asked, still watching Tyki with those eyes. “Because you… hated?”

Tyki shook his head with a stifled laugh. “Everyone has different motives,” he hummed, patting his pockets for his matches and cigarettes. “The things I do, I do because I enjoy them,” he confessed. “Even with a purpose like that, there are things I regret.” Perhaps that last part was a lie. But, pain breeds familiarity and all that. The boy wanted someone to tell him it was okay to hate, and that’s all Tyki was doing. Giving him what he wanted. “A variance in motive means little to the result. Don’t you think?”

“I guess,” he allowed, looking as though he didn’t quite follow but understood enough about what _he_ was feeling to gather the rest of what Tyki was saying. “Would you like me to get that for you?” he asked, gesturing to the matchbox Tyki was juggling with the empty glass in while he pulled a cigarette from the box in his pocket.

Tyki arched and eyebrow but offered the hand out. “Certainly,” he allowed, placing the cigarette between his lips. The boy struck the match with steady hands and stepped closer, protecting the small flame from a light wind. Tyki dipped his head, steadying the cigarette between his fingers while he pulled lightly to set the end alight. When it was glowing like a cherry he let his eyes drift up to meet the boy’s. They were standing so close. Close enough that Tyki felt it when he blew on the match to extinguish it. Close enough that his murmured, “Thanks,” blew a puff of smoke into the boy’s space. Tyki paused for a moment, their eyes locked, until he turned his head and exhaled. The white smoke hung in the air for a moment before the light wind stirred up again, dispersing it. When he glanced back Tyki found the boy looking down at the design printed on the front of the matchbox - a Joker, such as one found in a deck of cards. “Do you like gambling?” he asked lightly, diffusing the remainder of their dark mood just as the wind had done for the smoke.

The boy looked up with a wry smile. “Is it a gamble if I know I’ll win?” Tyki laughed and inclined his head in acquiescence. “Do you?” the boy returned.

“I enjoy everything I do,” Tyki repeated his words from earlier. “It’s why I do it.”

“Even standing here?” the boy pressed with a small laugh. “Talking with me?”

Tyki shot him a humored look and announced, only the slightest bit facetious, “Words cannot describe.” But the boy laughed anyway so Tyki took another drag from the cigarette.

The silence sat between them for a moment before the boy spoke again. “You remember, last time I was here I asked a question.”

“You asked a few questions,” Tyki retorted. “To which, in particular, do you refer?”

“Well,” the boy began, “you asked my age. I asked you something in return.”

Ah. Of course he did. Tyki’s heart thumped heavily in his chest at the memory and he wondered if _this_ was the mood the boy wanted to exist between them. “I recall,” he admitted, willing to see where this would lead despite it being so glaringly obvious.

The boy glanced up from where he’d been looking at the matchbox again and offered it out to Tyki. “I’d like an answer,” he said simply.

“I’m sure you would,” Tyki allowed with a chuckle and accepted the box. “But you have to consider _my_ stance on the matter,” he continued lightly. “And another thing,” he added, “what _is_ your name? Our acquaintance has lasted almost nine months and I don’t seem to know the slightest thing about you.”

He seemed surprised - as though he hadn’t noticed the oversight. But rather than divulge he asked, “Your stance?”

Tyki sighed and shook his head, reprimanding behind his entertained smile. “Such a childish way of thinking, to _take_ as soon as you’ve decided you _want._ Life is just one big waiting game at which I happen to have gotten rather good. So you’ll forgive me, but I’m holding out until the _want_ has become more of a _need.”_

“And if I decide I’m tired of waiting?” the boy lead and Tyki threw back a laugh.

“Then by all means, find someone willing to meet you halfway.” Tyki pulled from the cigarette, his grin unmoving. “But if you want to know what _I_ will do to you once you’re old enough to appreciate it,” he continued, smoke spilling from his lips, “then you play by my rules.”

He jerked his chin up at that, stubborn as ever. “How old do you _think_ I am?” he demanded, the furrow of his brow reading his genuine curiosity.

Tyki spread his hands in a shrug. “Younger than you act,” he answered. “Older than you look. It’s hard to say.”

“That’s not an age,” he insisted, eyes demanding an answer.

Tyki looked down at him, considering. Took in his height, his hair, his face, his body language. “Fifteen,” he answered, turning his gaze back out to the street. The boy said nothing and Tyki continued, “In which case I am eight years your senior, which is more than half your age again. And I, for one,” he added, glancing back to read the boy’s composed expression, “am more than willing to have the next three years pass like this,” he said, gesturing between them.

“Three years,” the boy repeated, almost incredulous. A frown took up residence on his brow, determination chasing away any errant emotions. “So you’re waiting until you think I’m eighteen, regardless of what I want?”

“Precisely,” Tyki approved and put the cigarette to his lips.

“No matter what I say?” Tyki nodded and hummed confirmation. “No matter what I do?” Tyki startled when the boy’s hand reached up slowly to pluck the cigarette from his mouth.

He watched his fingers as they brought it to his own pretty lips, pulling until the ember glowed red. With a hand on Tyki’s shoulder he stood on his toes and leaned his body against Tyki’s, pressed his lips against Tyki’s lips. It was one of those heart-stopping moments - Tyki could feel his pulse beating in his fingertips, in his ears, in his lips where they were pressed against that cheating boy’s. And _fuck,_ if Tyki hadn’t already been leaning on the wall he would have _fallen_ against it when he felt the boy’s tongue tracing his lip, working Tyki’s mouth open so he could pull away an inch and - _god,_ that was good. He spilled his lungful of smoke into the space between them and Tyki breathed it in hungrily. There wasn’t much Tyki wanted more than to devour him right then and there. His sweet lips were back, tasting of cognac and Tyki’s smoke and he _wanted_ to reciprocate, _wanted_ to kiss him back and bite his lips bloody, wanted to pin his wrists til they bruised and suck marks up and down his neck and thighs so they wouldn’t fade for _days._ Tyki’s hands found the boy’s hips - so slim, he could just- and twisted until the boy was the one pinned against the wall.

They stood breathless for a moment, faces inches apart before Tyki leaned back, keeping one hand needlessly firm on the boy’s hip. The other still held his empty glass and he lifted it like an excuse, saying, “A couple of things. Firstly, I’ll put this down,” he began and stooped to place the tumbler next to where the boy had left his on the ground. “And I’ll take this,” he added second, standing to pluck the cigarette from his fingers, “and finally, a question: do you really think my self control is that fragile?” he reprimanded with a scowl. The boy looked as though he was going to answer but Tyki held a finger up to halt him. “Actually no, scratch that. How about you tell me how old you are, instead?”

“Eighteen.”

“Don’t expect me to believe that,” Tyki snapped.

“Why don’t you want to?” They were so close they were almost kissing, words biting sharp at each other's lips.

Tyki tilted his head, his expression a mocking tease. “Maybe I don’t want a child involved in things no child ought to be involved in.” The boy looked as though he wanted to interrupt so Tyki pinned him with a reprimanding look and continued, voice low, “I’m not talking about _that_. I don’t know why you were looking for Suman that night, but I can guess. And it isn’t something that someone like you should be involved in.”

The boy seemed to chew on his words, considering Tyki carefully. “For someone who enjoys corrupting the youth,” he said, “you seem to care an awful lot about this.”

“This is bigger than that,” Tyki defended and had to smother the urge to kiss that smirk right off the boy’s smug-looking face.

“I think it’s something else entirely,” he retorted, head leaning back against the wall so his chin jutted forward and his throat was bared. And god, Tyki wanted to wrap his hands around that soft neck, wanted to see his fingers dig into the skin as they tightened, possessive.

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch a little at the comment though. “Really?” he returned, falling into the tease.

“Really,” the boy insisted staunchly, hands crawling up Tyki’s lapels to rest on his shoulders. Fingers playing at the ends of Tyki’s hair, he continued, “I think you’re trying to rationalise taking a fifteen-year-old,” he put forward, smirk teasing the corner of his mouth.

Tyki’s tongue slipped between his lips, licking the answering grin off his face. “What do you take me for?” he asked to have something to say, debating the merits of glancing down at those pretty pink lips again.

“I think you’re trying to come up with an actual _reason_ to not take me back inside right now, because my age just isn’t cutting it,” those lips were murmuring, spilling a warm kind of poison into Tyki’s veins.

“Who wouldn’t?” he reasoned with half a laugh, almost breathless. _Fuck,_ he wanted… _God, the things he wanted._ And if he took it right then would it really be so bad? If he took a moment to kiss the victorious expression off that boy’s face, would it be worth it? If he went further, lips and tongue and teeth working marks into his skin… would he really regret it? Would he feel like such a _demon_ for pressing his pleasure and desire and _want_ into the boy’s body? For slapping his pretty, white skin until it was nice and rosy, choking the air out of him til he was flushed as much with excitement as he was adrenaline? Until his body ached for more and Tyki’s only release came in giving it? Would it really… _really_ be so bad?

And he was tempted - he was _definitely_ tempted. But… wouldn’t it be so much _better_ to wait? He was like a cask of fine wine, plump with the subtle scent of various daddy issues and Tyki was certain it could only get _better_ with age. Uncork it now and all that potential would rot away to vinegar. What a waste that would be.

“You’re so fragile,” Tyki breathed against his lips, a hand tracing up the boy’s shoulder, his neck, into his hair where he tightened his hand into a fist. The boy’s lips parted and a small gasp left them. It set Tyki on _fire._ “You’re a child,” Tyki continued and tilted his head so the words brushed soft like velvet across the boy’s cheek, his jaw. “I’d break you,” he pressed against the boy’s throat, letting him feel the bite of his teeth.  

The boy’s sharp breath ghosted past his cheek and Tyki had to smother the urge to press their bodies together and crush the tension rolling between them in waves. The boy felt every shift in the energy between them that Tyki felt, he was certain. When he pulled back, hand still tight in his hair, his grey eyes were dark. His pupils shuddered between adrenaline and arousal like he couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or turned on. “Maybe I want to be broken.” It was such an intoxicating feeling, Tyki didn’t blame him.

“And I want to break you,” he confessed and loosened his fist so he could trace his hand along the boy’s cheek, run a thumb across his lower lip. “You’ve no idea how much.”

“But you won’t?” he guessed in a voice one part disappointed, two parts completely and utterly seduced.

“I will,” Tyki corrected with a devilish smile and continued before the boy could get the wrong idea, “but not tonight. Not tomorrow, or the day after.” His expression was so incredibly torn, almost distressed. “You play by my rules. But don’t bother saving yourself.” He smirked at the boy’s wide eyes and dipped his head to whisper against his ear, “I don’t care if I’m your first, but I’m going to be your last.”

“You’re a cruel man, Tyki Mikk.” The words were breathed sweet and frustrated across his cheek and Tyki grinned.

“I’m a bad man,” he corrected. “But not the kind of bad that will let me, in good conscience, allow your underhand tactics to sway me.”

“What about in bad conscience?” He was persistent, and Tyki found he was glad the boy at least knew what he wanted with certainty.

Refusing to let himself be pulled in, refusing to give false hope to the _tonight_ on the boy’s mind, Tyki pressed his hand against the brickwork beside the boy’s head and straightened. Pushed himself away, so cool air could pool between their overwarm bodies. “That would make me a monster,” he corrected, bringing the cigarette to his lips and imagining he could taste the boy’s sweet mouth on the paper, “rather than _any_ kind of man.”

The boy dipped his head, huffed an unsteady laugh. “Guess I should leave then,” he murmured, eyes hidden and a self destructive kind of regret in his voice. Embarrassment and shame were powerful enemies, but Tyki had promised he wouldn’t break the boy tonight. Nor, he realised, should he allow the boy to tear himself apart with his own thoughts.

“You should rest,” he murmured, low and calm and almost reassuring. “Go home, and come back when you’re clearheaded.”

“When I’m eighteen?” he scoffed, derisive, and halfheartedly glared his embarrassment up at Tyki.

He arched a scathing eyebrow. “I’ve no patience for self-deprecation,” he stated, “so come back once you’ve gotten over yourself.” He kept his unimpressed expression in place at the boy’s offended scowl and continued, “I _know_ you’re better than that. But right now,” he glanced down to drop the end of his cigarette and scrape the ember out with his shoe, “you wouldn’t even be any fun to play poker with.”

He seemed to war with himself and Tyki’s words, childishly frustrated at having his pettiness called out. It took a few seconds of glaring at Tyki’s chest and working his jaw before the boy closed his eyes in defeat and sighed, slumped exhausted against the wall. He brought a hand up to rub tiredly at his eyes, shade them from Tyki’s view. “Can’t believe you’d want me to come back.”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be about sex,” Tyki scoffed, stepped away so he wasn’t hemming the boy in. “There are other ways to enjoy someone’s company.”

“Do you?” he asked, dropping his hand to frown confusion up at Tyki. “Enjoy it, that is. My company.”

Tyki laughed and dipped to pick up their glasses, his smoke break over. “I already answered that question,” he reminded, shot the boy an amused glance. “Try to keep ahold of that hate, boy,” he encouraged as he stepped towards the doors, waving over his shoulder. “It’s a good look on you.” He grinned at the boy’s quiet laugh and didn’t bother looking back when he entered the building. Tyki would see him again.

 

The final act of the Earl’s play was coming to a resounding crescendo and Tyki knew better than to think the Order would make it out alive - or any other gang, for that matter. But Tyki’s attention to the Noah clan’s main aggressors came not from loyalties so much as interest piqued by what stood to be his final assignment. Tyki was not to be part of an extermination squad. His talents held more finess. But what a shame it was, that when he finally learned Allen Walker’s name it was from a street rat kid delivering a photograph and an order to kill.

He figured he wouldn’t necessarily have to track the white haired boy down - unless Allen Walker had any sense at all. From what Tyki knew of him he had plenty, so maybe he was playing more on reluctance than probability. And sense, it seemed, Allen had more than enough. Tyki halfheartedly waited for him to return to the casino, only he never did.

Months came and went and it was only when they came again that Tyki realised an entire year had passed. Since they’d met, and then since the _last_ time they’d met. In all that time Tyki hadn’t seen his white hair or pretty face once, and the little black book sat all but forgotten in a draw in Tyki’s desk. There were no more street rats giving him names, and Tyki wondered for the first time if this was what most would consider retirement. He still owned the casino, he still laundered money for the Noah. Tyki found he hadn't a single order from the Earl since the assassination he hadn’t bothered to carry out. Deposits still came in, and Tyki processed them as he always had. Sums were withdrawn and Tyki covered them as business expenses. Allen Walker was dead, or as good as, and Tyki decided he should be thankful for the lapse into relaxation and routine. Wondered why, more than anything, he found himself _bored._

Months passed again, came again and this time Tyki didn’t even realise. Not even when the calendar turned a third time. Three years isn't a long time to pass in a casino. Similar to how the customers seemed to get sucked in, time passed strangely for the employees working in the timeless rooms too. Three years was, regardless of that, a long time for something to pass without missing it.

But for all that Tyki never expected to see Allen walk through the doors of the casino ever again, he was as equally unsurprised when he did. And in the moment where he recognised Allen, he realised several things. Firstly, that three years could do a lot to a person. Tyki himself had hardly changed, but Allen stood taller, broader though still slim in a way that had Tyki paying all sorts of attention to him. Small enough to bend in half, probably. And with that exact thought came another realisation. That even after three years, some things never changed.

“Tyki Mikk,” Allen Walker greeted. God, had he grown into that suave manner of his. His smirk was a work of art and Tyki wanted nothing more than to defile it. “You look well.”

“I thought you were dead,” he confessed amiably, returning the boy’s self-assured smile.

“Didn’t mourn, I hope?” It was almost seductive, the sweet way he talked. Still infallibly polite, still as cocky as a boy who knew what he wanted.

“Only for missed opportunities,” Tyki returned smoothly. “Care for a game?” he offered and gestured to the table, like three years was nothing and they would only fall back into the same old patterns.

But with Allen’s agreeance of, “What else would one come to a casino for?” and the look in his eyes when he said it, it seemed three years really changed very little after all.

So Tyki dealt him in, couldn’t afford to pay attention to whoever else was betting at his table when all his attention was quietly trained on Allen Walker. The third thing Tyki realised as their hands flashed quick over the cards was a change only skin-deep, but somehow incredibly deeper. Whenever Allen reached across the table to place a bet or collect a card, his sleeve would ride up to reveal a thin, black ring inked around his wrist. Tyki watched for that flash of skin under the cuff of his fine cotton shirt, eyes chasing after it with tantalising interest while questions he’d never ask danced on the tip of the tongue which flashed between his lips.

He was angry, a little. That someone else could mark _his_ boy with such permanence. But Tyki had every intention of wiping Allen Walker’s mind of everything but _him._ The boy wouldn’t be able to look in a mirror for a _week_ without seeing Tyki and the way he’d had him. The way he _owned_ him.

Tyki’s eyes snapped up to catch Allen’s a moment before they darted away, and Tyki made an art of reading people’s tells. He read impatience in his hands, fire in his eyes and an unspeakable thrill in the way his expression changed whenever his gaze met Tyki’s. They made their final bets, Tyki not bothering to watch the boy’s fast hands. He knew he was cheating, and knew he wouldn’t catch him. Tyki placed down his hand, face up. Quad twos, and not a single one had come from the deck. Allen didn’t disappoint, turning his hand to reveal a royal straight flush - spades - with his eyes closed in that smile of his. It was the same hand he’d always used to win against Tyki and when he placed the cards flat on the table Tyki felt his entire demeanor change. It sent an unruly thrill shuddering through his body, the tiny shift in Allen’s expression stating clearly that playtime was _over._ Well, Tyki had never seen that before. It made his blood run hot.

“I’d like to see the manager, please.” His words were as infallibly polite as they always had been, every sentiment expressed in the most calm, likeable of ways. Allen Walker was… _incredibly_ likeable.

“The manager?” Tyki responded, cocking his head and pursing his lips slightly. Playtime wasn’t quite over for him. “You don’t have any complaints, do you?” he hummed, feigning concern.

His smile was back. The one that made Tyki’s heart freeze in his chest and set his blood boiling. “I’d like to apply for a position,” he corrected.

Allen Walker was _likeable,_ alright. And Tyki liked likeable. He liked white hair and false smiles and an amiable personality that anyone could get along with but no-one could get close to. He liked Allen Walker, and he _loved_ the man he’d grown into. The waiting game really was so much fun.

Tyki would be a fool to not know where this was going, but he had no intention of waylaying. The contrary, in fact. He was _very_ interested in seeing where Allen would lead him. So he, in turn, stood and called someone to cover the table before leading the boy towards the back of the building. The large wooden door to his office was inviting and private and _almost_ soundproof, but comfortable. And comfortable was what they needed, more than soundproofing. It wasn’t as though he’d be breaking the room in or anything - testing what it could handle in terms of vocalisation, hopefully, but this was far from a first.

“The manager,” Tyki mused, walking around the desk to seat himself in the comfortable chair he’d long since worn in, “is listening.”

“You're the manager?” He didn’t seem very surprised but Tyki didn’t expect him to. The boy had seen him wield practical free reign over his employees. This should _hardly_ come as a surprise.

“I am,” was all he offered. “What sort of employment are you seeking?” he asked, the managerial front almost a joke. But… not entirely. The boy was quick with his hands and had cheated Tyki every time he’d played his table. It would hardly be a bad thing to have someone so talented on the floor. On the desk too, in good time.

“Dealing,” Allen stated as though his answer could have been anything else.

“Well,” Tyki murmured, folding his hands to rest his chin on them, “I’m afraid we have a rather strict policy on tattoos.” His lax gaze drifted from the boy’s silver eyes to his hand, meaning clear. “They must be easily concealed,” he hummed and his eyes flickered back to the boy’s face with the barest taunt hidden in them, “and I’ll have to determine that myself.” He nodded, acquiescing, and Tyki gestured briefly, “I believe I saw something?” he prompted, expression sinking to something between sly and devilish. “Your wrist?” he suggested.

“Of course,” Allen allowed and pulled loose the knot of the thin ribbon he wore as a necktie. “Would it be easier for me to show you the whole thing?” he asked while placing it over the back of the chair in front of him.

“Preferable, surely,” Tyki responded smoothly, crossing his legs to absentmindedly stifle the way his pants were growing tight.

His eyes couldn’t help but watch Allen’s fingers push each of his buttons through its catch, revealing a larger and larger sliver of his chest. God, Tyki wanted to mark it. He wanted to bruise and welt, write his name across Allen’s untouched, unblemished skin with the cutting snap of a whip. Tyki jerked his chin teasingly, feeling Allen watching him, and smirked. The last button slipped free, leaving the fabric to fall in curtains on either side of a smooth, pale stomach, tight with quiet strength. And Tyki wasn’t one to say a word if Allen were a fifteen year old boy (or maybe just one or two here and there) but Allen Walker was not fifteen anymore and Tyki had always had a weak spot for the waiting game.

Allen’s hands reached up to shrug the collar down his shoulders but Tyki halted him with a lifted hand which he then placed on the desk, pushing himself to stand from his seat. “Mind if I…?” he began, slowly circling the desk. Allen’s eyes followed every movement closely, as though Tyki were some dangerous animal. Well, dangerous he was. Animal… he could be.

“Of course,” Allen allowed when Tyki came to a stop in front of him and offered his left hand out for inspection. Tyki caught it gently in his own and after a moment spent thrilling at the warmth of such a casual - _gentle_ touch, he pushed back the cuff of Allen’s sleeve to bare a few more inches of skin. His thumb traced the thin black band of ink circling the boy’s wrist, then the wider strip of unmarked skin. The unadorned black tattoo continued from there in a flawless wash of ink, disappearing under the white cotton of the shirt.

“This is new,” Tyki murmured to have something to say, the air between them so thick it made Allen’s breath catch.

“Three years is a long time, Tyki Mikk,” Allen responded, conversational and the slightest bit reprimanding.

“Three years, hm?” Tyki mused, mouth twitching with a smile. His fingers at Allen’s cuff drifted up, brushing lightly over his sleeve to his shoulder. “One almost doesn't notice the time passing.” His hand curled into Allen’s collar, pulled the shirt askew when he folded it down the boy’s shoulder. He tutted lightly in exasperated disappointment at what he saw. Two bands of ink arched across his shoulder, geometrically perfect in their design. Shards of black bloomed out from the sleeve, spilling across his chest like blades or petals or the points of a star. “And look what you’ve done to the body God gave you.” Despite the scolding words his eyes were quietly appreciative, busy mapping out the angle-sharp black lines.

“I assure it won’t get in the way of my work,” Allen asserted. Tyki felt something jump with glee inside him when he saw the shiver that Allen had to force away.

“Oh, I’m quite familiar with your work,” Tyki hummed, voice a murmur, “and I don’t doubt it in the least.” He stepped back with a slight smile, giving the white-haired boy some breathing room while he circled around to stand behind him. Allen stayed relaxed and poised, for all the world unbothered by the way Tyki’s hands came to rest on his arms, slowly pulling the shirt away until it fluttered past their fingertips to fold at Allen’s feet. “And one more thing,” Tyki asserted and drew a light line up Allen's inked arm with the softest brush of his fingers. “All employees must be legal adults. So I have to ask - how old are you?” Tyki leaned in until he could feel the warmth of Allen’s back fanning out against his chest, until he could feel the way Allen’s breath shuddered at how close Tyki stood. His hand rested like a feather on Allen’s bicep and he dipped his head to brush his nose through the soft white hair at the nape of his neck. “Allen Walker,” he breathed, “Cheating Boy A. How old are you?”

“Cheating Boy A?” he repeated, startled. A small sound worked its way out of his throat when Tyki’s hand found its way to his waist, thumb drawing a light line along his hip.

“Would you prefer ‘Jail Bait that Makes Me Want to Risk It’?”

“My name is Allen,” he reminded mildly. Tyki could perfectly picture his slightly miffed expression, the offended frown.

“Well, I know that _now,”_ Tyki retorted. His lips found the shell of Allen’s ear and he whispered his question, “How old are you, Mister Walker?”

Tyki felt Allen’s laugh shake through his body and the sound of it did _things_ to him. It was low, quiet. Almost derisive, almost fond. “Well, Mister Mikk,” he hummed, voice tilted with humor, “if you check my left pocket,” he said while he shifted his weight backwards, letting his head tip until his soft hair was pressed against Tyki’s shoulder, tickling his neck. Tyki glanced at his face while he let his hand trail back down the inked left arm and was more than pleased to see the boy really had mastered that smug expression of his. “...You’ll find my passport, detailing everything you need to know,” he finished, the smirk never leaving his lips.

Tyki hummed in consideration and let his eyes dip and wander, skating down across the flat planes of his chest and stomach and landing on the small trail of fine, pale hair leading to the button of his pants and lower. “Funny you say that,” he mused while his hand slipped into Allen’s pocket, smooth against the warm strength of his thigh. He paused there for a moment with an appreciative sound low in his throat before reaching further to find the small booklet. “There’s not a thing this could tell me that I’d want to know,” he hummed and tossed it onto the desk with hardly a glance.

“After you made such a big fuss about it,” Allen shook his head, disapproving. But Tyki’s hands were now both down by his hips and he planned to take full advantage of that, so it wasn’t all for nothing.

Tyki tutted lightly and let his hands sit there for a moment, tracing small gestures from the sharp curve of his hipbone to the firm line of his waist. “Well,” he defended, “you know how reading makes things _boring?”_ He tilted his head so his words were spoken into Allen’s hair. “I didn’t wait around for three years to read a book,” he reasoned, quiet voice scathing. “And besides,” he added with a smirk, eyes slipping closed for a moment, “it’s not as if it could tell me what I need to know.” His fingers traced around the waist of Allen’s pants, skimming the soft skin. Tyki felt the slight shudder rock through his body at the touch and he pressed his lips to Allen’s neck so he could feel his grin, tilted his hips towards Allen’s ass so he could feel Tyki’s response.

“Oh?” Allen prompted, voice a fraction unsteady - god, the things _that_ did to Tyki... “And what is it you _need to know,_ Mister Mikk?”

He hummed approval against Allen’s skin, let his lips tease his ear while he spoke low and intoxicated by the warmth of Allen’s back pressed against his chest, his hands on his skin, nose in his hair and heartbeat thrumming against his fingers. “A number of things,” he murmured, breath skating across Allen’s neck. “I won’t go into any graphic detail yet, but...” he teased and felt a small shiver roll through the boy as a response, “I’d like to see how pretty your blush is,” he murmured and traced a hand up the smooth line of Allen’s abdomen, coming to rest somewhere over his heart. “I wonder if you go red all the way to your chest,” he contemplated, “or even lower?”

“I’m-” he began but Tyki’s grip on him tightened, silencing. His fingers dug light crescents into Allen’s skin, but they would fade in under a minute. Tyki needed something more… long lasting.

“I want to cover you in marks,” he continued, his hold softening once more. “Want to see how you welt,” he sighed into his skin and took a moment to lick a stripe up Allen’s neck. “Want to see how you bruise,” he punctuated with a bite, the small sound that fell from Allen’s lips like music to his ears. “A passport can’t tell me how you _feel,”_ he breathed, “when my body is pressed against yours.” He tilted his hips closer until his half-hard dick was flush against Allen’s ass, until he could _feel_ it, feel _Tyki_ and how much he wanted him. “But,” Tyki allowed, pulling away with a smirk, “we’ll start with the easy stuff.”

“Easy,” Allen repeated with a breathless laugh, “right.”

“It’s just a simple question,” Tyki reasoned, “and you don’t even have to lie this time.” He played with the button of Allen’s pants for a moment, content to take his time. He could hear the way the boy’s breath shuddered, feel the way his body twitched expectantly under his touch. “Tell me, boy,” he murmured, voice low in Allen’s ear, “how old are you?” He popped the button and a quiet sound pulled itself from Allen’s throat, somewhere between pain and stifled arousal.

“Eighteen,” he breathed out, so unsteady it could only be true.

“Eighteen,” Tyki quoted, peeling the zip of Allen’s fly down one tooth at a time. “Isn’t that just,” he hummed slowly and paused to suck a dark red mark below his ear. “...perfect,” he finished, smirking at the boy’s stifled groan. “Look at that,” he murmured behind Allen’s ear, eyes on the bulge straining through his open fly. “I haven’t even touched you yet,” he smirked, tilted his hips forward so the boy could feel he wasn’t alone. “Do you want me to?” Tyki asked, hands firm at Allen’s hips. He bit at his earlobe, sucked it into his mouth for a moment and Allen sank against him, pliant. “Do you want me to touch you?” he repeated, voice low and quiet in Allen’s ear.

“Yes,” he gasped, breath unsteady. “Please,” he whispered, almost desperate.

Tyki hummed low in his throat and slid a hand into Allen’s pants to cup the warm weight of his arousal. “Like this?” he teased and massaged his hand purposefully.

The choked moan that spilled from Allen’s lips went straight to Tyki’s dick and the boy just _couldn’t_ be the virgin he was playing, with a voice like that. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing to Tyki and _god,_ did he love it. “Yeah,” he gasped, breaths coming sharp with Tyki’s every movement. He traced his fingers lightly around the shape of Allen’s dick through his underwear and pulled his thumb torturously across the head, drawing a long sound from his lips. His head tilted back on Tyki’s shoulder and his hand came up, fingers reaching to tangle in Tyki’s dark hair.

“Fuck,” Tyki groaned quietly and draped his arm around Allen’s waist while his other hand traded the teasing touches for dipping below the waistband of his underwear. “You’re _gorgeous,”_ he murmured under his breath, groaning in approval when Allen’s hand tightened in his hair. “I can’t wait to tear you apart.” His voice was a low growl and Allen’s back arched with a helpless sound when Tyki’s hand wrapped firm around his hard cock, drawing it out of his pants with a long, tight stroke. It felt so good in his hand, all silk and steel. He let Allen feel his low hum through the rumble of his chest and breathed words against his ear in tandem with another slow caress up his length. “Tell me how it feels.”

Allen choked on a moan when Tyki massaged his hand from the base to tip and lifted his head, voice weak when he tried to speak. “It’s-” He cut off with a sharp breath and his fingers clenched in Tyki’s hair, strands falling loose from the tie. “It's _good,”_ he gasped and Tyki dipped his head with a grin to bite at his neck, sucking a dark hickey beside his throat while he jerked his hand steadily along Allen’s length. “I want,” he started, pausing to suck in a shuddering breath, “I want to fuck into your hand, but…” His body twitched with a moan that Tyki felt against his lips when he flicked his thumb over the slick head of Allen’s dick.

“But?” he murmured against Allen’s neck, licking at his pulse point.

“I want to fuck your hand,” he choked out, voice strained with desire, “but you-” He paused to breathe and Tyki felt his neck heating with a blush. “But I love - _hnn!_ I love feeling your dick,” he finally gasped out, “against my ass, I-”

Tyki stifled his groan against Allen’s shoulder, hips thrusting forward in response to his words. He could feel the firm crease of his ass, felt the way Allen tilted his hips back to rub against him. God, he was going to _ruin_ this boy, even if it killed him. “You like my hand on you?” he murmured into Allen’s skin. “Touching you… it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, half-teasing. Allen made a sound of distracted but _thorough_ agreement and Tyki rolled his hips with a grin. “Do you want something else?” he taunted, never stopping his slow, firm movements on Allen’s cock. He felt the question in the way Allen’s body shifted, expectant desire shuddering through him. He traced his tongue lightly up the shell of Allen’s ear just to feel that unsteadiness rock through his body again. “Do you want my mouth,” he breathed, hearing every hitch in Allen’s rough breath, “on your dick?”

Allen made a sound of breathless surprise that dragged into a long moan when Tyki tightened his grip and swirled his thumb over the rosy head, smearing precome across his fingers. “You,” Allen breathed, unsteady, “you want to suck me off?”

Tyki had to laugh at that, the chuckle coming from low in his throat. “There are _so many things_ I want to do to you,” he said in response, bringing his hand up to lick the precome from his slick fingers. A small sound of appreciation came from his lips when the salty taste touched his tongue. “If you let me,” he added like an afterthought.

The boy pulled in a steadying breath and his fingers loosened in Tyki’s hair, disengaging enough for Tyki to guide him into turning around. He tilted his head back to look up at him and - god, _yes,_ that blush really did look good on him. And the marks Tyki had bitten and sucked were such a pretty colour, all dark purple and red. His lips were red too - like he’d been biting them. And he had the gall to look at Tyki like that, with an expression so heated and debauched, and say, “I don’t think I could stop you if I wanted to,” like that _wouldn’t_ send Tyki over the edge.

He closed his eyes with a groan, wrecked, and knotted his fingers in Allen’s hair to tilt his head back and completely _ravish_ his mouth. There was no pretense in the kiss this time, no smoke sitting in the air between them. Tyki sucked Allen’s tongue into his mouth and teased him - licking and biting his lips, fucking his tongue into Allen’s mouth while his hands roamed. Slipped down his back, felt every movement in the firm muscles. Lower, to his pants, and even lower. Skin on warm skin where Tyki’s fingers clenched wantonly on Allen’s ass, pulling their bodies flush together. Allen stumbled slightly when Tyki walked him backwards, and he made a sharp sound of surprise when he tore away from the kiss to slip his hands down further, pulling Allen’s pants down a little with the motion and picking him up with another. His lips locked at Allen’s throat, the boy reflexively wrapped his legs around Tyki’s waist while his fingers dug into his shoulders, clenching too tight in his surprise at being manhandled. He didn’t have the chance to decide if he liked it or not before Tyki had taken the two steps he needed to deposit him on the desk, immediately sinking to his knees and roughly tugging Allen’s pants down further as he went.

“Tyki-” he gasped, hands still clenched on his shoulders. “What’re you-”

Tyki stopped him short with a hungry look and Allen swallowed his words, the blush flooding back into his cheeks. Tyki took one of the boy’s hands from his shoulder and guided it to the back of his head, never letting his eyes waver from where he had Allen pinned. His expression sank into an animalistic grin. “I’m going to eat you up, boy,” he answered with a sadistic kind of thrill, tilting his face closer to Allen’s crotch. The boy wove his fingers into Tyki’s hair, still far too hesitant for his liking. With a hand under his thigh Tyki tucked himself beneath the boy’s legs and reached for his leaking cock, stroking up the shaft in a touch almost tender compared to his previous hold on him. Tyki sucked in a warm, slow breath, taking in Allen’s scent. It was at once both light and heavy, a sweet musk that promised the tang of salt if only he were to bite down and _taste._ He was just _made_ of contradictions, wasn’t he? A man who was both young and old, and at the same time neither. Tyki pressed closer, let his tongue brush around the base of Allen’s dick slowly to savour the first taste. Like salt, only sweet. Tyki pressed his grin against Allen’s shaft in a lingering kiss and opened his eyes to watch the boy watching him while he licked a stripe from base to tip and swallowed him down whole. His eyes slipped closed on a moan when he felt the head of Allen’s cock brush the roof of his mouth, felt his legs twitch on Tyki’s shoulders and his fingers tighten in his hair. _Perfect._

He lifted off, slowly, taking all the time he wanted while his tongue traced teasing patterns along the underside of Allen’s length. He felt every twitch and clench in the boy’s legs around his neck, every shudder that made him fist his hand in Tyki’s hair. It was _delicious,_ and that was to say nothing for the cock in his mouth. When his lips finally slipped off his slick head, tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit, Tyki rested there like a kiss and opened his eyes again. The boy was looking down at him with eyes wide and his lip caught red and swollen between his teeth. His shoulders were hunched up and the flush really was making its way from his cheeks down his chest. Such a pretty, pretty colour on him. He might not be a virgin, but Tyki had never expected him to be. He might not be the first to see Allen like this, but for all he was worth Tyki had every intention of wiping his mind of everyone else, every _thing_ else until his thoughts were of nothing but _Tyki Mikk._ He was going to _own_ this boy. He would do it with his mouth, and again with his fingers. He was going to _beg_ for Tyki’s dick and then - well… And then, he’d see how he felt.

Tyki tilted his head, kept his eyes on Allen’s while that smirk stretched across his lips uncontrollably at the thought of how _much_ he wanted this boy to want him. To _need_ him, until he was crying for it. They’d get there. They had time. He swirled his tongue around the leaking head of Allen’s cock, in love with the heady taste of his precome. He made sure to keep it a little bit sloppy, a little bit messy so the boy could see the pink flash of his tongue as Tyki worked around his head and then lower, mouthing and licking down his entire length with a hand up to steady him. And then Tyki’s mouth left his cock, moved lower while his hand tightened possessively around his shaft. One of his balls in Tyki’s mouth, the other massaged carefully in his free hand, Allen finally lost the restraint to fuck his hips up into Tyki’s barely-enough grip. Allen’s ankles crossed around Tyki’s back, his fist pulled tight in his hair and he let out a weak, stifled moan.

Tyki distractedly noted that the boy still had the presence of mind to kick off his shoes so his toes could curl against Tyki’s back. With another glance up he saw the boy’s head bowed, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gasping open. His hand was trembling and tense on the back of Tyki’s head, like he couldn’t tell how far Tyki would let him go. Which, in answer: Tyki would not be entirely against having his head shoved down on Allen’s cock til he was choking on it. But, good things come to those who wait.

Contrarily, only the things left by those who hustle. Tyki sucked lightly, massaged his hand without moving it along the shaft. Allen’s hips stuttered up in an aborted thrust, a needy groan torn from his throat while his brows pinched adorably. And Tyki _wanted_ that, he wanted Allen’s dick fucking against the back of his throat, wanted to pull every twisted, desperate sound out of him that he could find. So he moved his mouth away, up until he could lick the flat of his tongue torturously across the leaking head of his pretty pink cock and gave only enough resistance for it to be _fun_ when Allen’s body clenched, hand forcing Tyki’s head _down._ He parted his lips and took everything Allen gave him, inch by inch until his throat was rioting against his gag reflex and both of Allen’s hands were tight in his hair, hips thrusting shortly up into Tyki’s mouth in half-aborted attempts to get _more._

And Tyki let him have it, let him take and take until he couldn’t bear to lose the sweet warmth of Tyki’s mouth, his tongue, the way his throat closed and shuddered when he tried to swallow more down. And that, of course, was the moment Tyki pulled away. Hands pinning Allen’s slim hips to the desk, Tyki _sucked_ as he lifted off the dick in his mouth until his lips popped wet and lewd. The boy’s moan was almost a sob and Tyki’s hands were bruising where he forced him from fucking up into Tyki’s mouth for more. But he wasn’t done. God no, Tyki was _far_ from done.

He pressed his lips to the boy’s abdomen, chaste but for the faintest slip of his tongue dancing out to paint light patterns against his skin. He moved up slowly, laying Allen back with his knees still around Tyki’s shoulders. He caught the waist of Allen’s pants, still tangled around his thighs, and made quick work of pulling them off to leave the boy naked and panting on the desk. With a grin Tyki caught Allen’s ankles in his hands and placed them on his shoulders, leaned forward to press his smirk against Allen’s shuddering breast when the boy let loose a weak, pained whimper at the way Tyki’s still-clothed chest brushed against his aching hard length.

“You want me?” he hummed in a taunt against Allen’s skin and bit a mark beneath his too-fast heart. He almost had him bent in half, almost had him the way he’d always wanted him. And there was _no way_ Allen hadn’t wanted this too. _No way_ he hadn’t imagined it a hundred times while he held his own knee up to his chest and fucked his hole open with his fingers until he came with Tyki’s name on his lips. No. Fucking. Way. Because his hands had slipped from Tyki’s hair and while one lay debauched beside his head the other was _ruining_ the weave at the back of Tyki’s jacket like he _knew_ what was coming and couldn’t fucking wait.

Allen took Tyki's wrist, drew his hand away from his hip and Tyki let him. Let him rest his cheek against Tyki's open palm, let him turn his face until he was pressing thirsty, open-mouthed kisses to Tyki's fingers. Let him suck those fingers into his mouth and swirl that sharp tongue of his around, between the digits until Tyki couldn't help but bite and suck a budded nipple in retaliation. Allen let slip a moan around Tyki’s fingers and Tyki just _had_ to reward that. So he laved the flat of his tongue across the pink bead and fucked his fingers into the slick heat of Allen’s mouth, groaned at the way the boy’s tongue worked quick and smooth against his skin while his hand gripped Tyki’s wrist tighter, pulled him deeper like he just couldn't get enough.

Tyki couldn’t help the way his hips pressed forward, body rolling with the movement to rock against Allen’s in a languid expression of leashed _desire._ Allen responded wantonly, his lithe body arching off the desk to try for any kind of friction against his leaking dick. Tyki smirked against his chest, rolled his hips again to draw that response out. He was rewarded with a wordless groan which cut off in a desperate whine, muffled and distorted by Tyki’s fingers in the boy’s mouth. He was achingly hard but it almost didn’t matter. Not when he had Allen twisting and moaning beneath him, desperate to be touched. Not when Tyki wanted _nothing more_ than to touch him. The way Allen’s tongue danced around Tyki’s fingers was _exotic,_ but he just couldn’t make all those pretty sounds when he had his mouth full.

Tyki straightened a little, leaning back to watch while he pulled his slick fingers from Allen’s dangerous mouth. The boy tried to follow him, eyebrows pinched in desperation. Tyki placed a hand on his chest to try stay him and had to bite his tongue to hold back an unholy sound when the boy kept straining, when Tyki’s fingers had to encircle that pale throat to force him down. He pulled his hand away from Allen’s lips with a lewd sound and looked down at the sight laid out before him with eyes made heavy from _need._

The boy’s cheeks were flushed red, his lips shining with spit. His eyes were glazed with arousal and his neck soft and pliant under Tyki’s firm hand. Not enough to choke, not enough to strangle and _suffocate,_ but the threat was there. The _promise._ Tyki sucked in a sharp breath, air filling his starved lungs when he loosened his grip on the boy, smoothed his dark-skinned hand down Allen’s light chest as though to wipe away the intoxication. Not yet. Not _yet._

Allen was watching him with silver eyes, breaths coming short and fast and catching on his voice so each had the flavor of a moan and desperate arousal. “Please,” he gasped, eyebrows bunched and lips shaping the word almost hypnotically. _“Tyki,”_ he begged, face crumpling into his _need_ while his hips thrusted up into nothing. He was all but _writhing_ in his desire to be touched, arms coming up to cover his red face from Tyki’s gaze. _“Please,”_ he whined long and desperate while his toes curled against Tyki’s back, mindlessly trying to urge him closer.

“Please, what?” Tyki asked, unable to resist the chance to tease the boy beneath him even as he trailed the slick fingers he’d been sucking on to skirt the base of his straining cock before moving _down._ A small smirk appeared on his lips at the way Allen’s mouth clamped shut against his words, suddenly determined not to cave but refusing to move his shy arms from across his eyes. “What is it, boy?” Tyki asked as he leaned close, fingers brushing against his hole in the barest taunt. Allen bit back a choked moan, teeth caught on his lip to try stop the way his hips stuttered up at the touch. Precome was beading at the tip of his cock, dripping from the aborted thrusts. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me,” Tyki reminded in an amused murmur made breathless by his own arousal. He turned his head to press his smirk against Allen’s knee like a kiss, slitted eyes admiring the boy’s debauched state and his panting mouth, heaving chest, hands clenched into fists desperate to clutch at Tyki. Allen managed to catch his lip between his teeth and Tyki pressed his finger slowly against the tight ring of muscle just to hear him groan wordless frustration and tilt his head back, bare his marked throat for Tyki.

His arms shifted a little - enough for a single silver eye to glare out at Tyki in a righteous distribution of his embarrassment. “Just fuck me already,” he bit out like a command. His petulant expression made Tyki’s lips part in a soundless laugh.

“From here,” he commented, voice low with amusement, “it doesn’t look like you’re in any position to be giving orders.” The boy’s indignant pout was a sight to behold and Tyki leaned down, slipping one of Allen’s knees from his shoulder to wrap tight around his waist. He ran his hand tantalisingly up the panting boy’s thigh and heard the quiet whine Allen released at having himself bent in half like that right against his ear. Tyki’s slick fingers swirled against Allen’s eager hole like a reminder and he breathed at the shell of his ear, “Don’t forget your manners, boy.”

He was silent for a long moment, stubbornness warring against his desperation until the defeated groan of his pride giving way made Tyki’s grin stretch victorious across his lips. Allen pulled in a shuddering breath and gasped, _“Please,_ Tyki,” with enough raw sincerity that Tyki rewarded him by pressing his teasing finger against the hungry ring of his ass, slipping easily inside to the second knuckle. The boy’s moan almost sounded surprised and Tyki had to smother his groan against Allen’s shoulder at the way he clenched down against the intrusion. Tyki refused to move from there, held himself still while Allen worked on relaxing, worked on trying to get more by tilting his hips invitingly. He sucked a mark on Allen’s collarbone to smother his grin at the boy’s frustrated growl. _“Tyki,”_ he snapped, rocking his hips down fruitlessly against the older man’s hand.

“Tell me what you need,” he breathed his smirk against Allen’s neck.

There was a sharp, petulant sound of derision and he bit out, “I need you to-”

But whatever smart remark he was working up to was silenced by a long, drawn-out moan when Tyki pressed his spit-slicked finger _deeper_ before withdrawing and pushing in _again._ Each slow thrust drew some kind of sound out of the boy on the desk and Tyki growled against his bruised and marked neck, “That’s right,” while his hips rocked instinctively in time with the movement of his hands, with each of the sounds he dragged from Allen’s throat. One of the boy’s hands had found its way back into Tyki’s hair, fingers woven tight in the black strands, and Tyki was more than happy with this development. “You _need_ me,” Tyki murmured low and savage into the hollow behind Allen’s jaw, tongue dancing against the sensitive skin. He couldn’t tell if the sound Allen made was in response to his words or the second finger Tyki was pressing into him but it made Tyki grind his hips forwards hungrily only to be met with the edge of the desk. Even _that_  friction was better than nothing against his aching dick and his groan met Allen’s on the next thrust. “You need me,” Tyki repeated, the edges of his words ragged with the way Allen’s _voice_ tore at his restraint, the way his breathless huffs of encouragement were wearing him down. “You need me to pleasure you,” he continued, certain his wrecked voice was doing as much for Allen as the boy’s was for him. “You need me to fuck you so hard against this desk you forget your name,” he growled out with a particularly sharp twist of his fingers, the yelp that escaped Allen’s lips completely worth it. Tyki slowed his pace, began swirling his fingers, spreading them, gently scissoring against Allen’s walls. “You need me to stretch you,” Tyki murmured into the music of the boy’s desperate sounds, “fill you with my dick just like you’ve imagined me doing since we met.”

“F-fuck…” Allen sobbed out, clinging to Tyki with all the strength he could muster while Tyki took him apart, piece by piece. “I need-” He stumbled over his words with choked moans, his eyes squeezed shut and his dick twitching with every new sensation Tyki worked on him. “I _need_ you,” he gasped, heels digging into Tyki’s back to draw him closer, pull his fingers deeper. _“I need you,”_ he chanted like it was the only phrase he knew, _“please! Tyki!”_

If he were a smaller, more humble, less greedy man Tyki might have nutted right there, to the sound of Allen choking out his name like he was on fire and Tyki was the only one who could save him. But Tyki _wanted_ things, and it would be a hell of a lot harder to get them from a proud boy like the one he had pinned beneath him if he let himself get carried away so easily. _Allen_ wanted things too, and Tyki feared an insurgency if he didn’t get them before Tyki came all over himself to the sound of his voice. So he squeezed his eyes shut and bit back his moan, slipped his fingers out to dance around Allen’s stretched hole. “Hold yourself for me, boy,” he panted against Allen’s neck, ran his hand down Allen’s thigh to press his leg up against his chest. Allen’s hand wrapped behind his knee instinctively, his eyes hazy and breaths coming heavy. Tyki pulled himself away, felt the boy’s fingers disentangle from his messy hair. He caught his hand under Allen’s other knee, lifted it up for the boy to clasp to his chest while Tyki ran his hands tenderly down his thighs, skin stretched tight and soft over smooth muscle.

The boy shuddered under his touch, gasped and whined quietly at the gentle brushes of Tyki’s hands on him. Tyki knelt on the floor, pressed his lips to the back of Allen’s thigh and glanced up to see his flustered, almost anxious face.

“You’re really doing this?” he asked, voice pitched half an octave higher than usual. Tyki arched an eyebrow and moved down, drawing a line with his tongue. Allen’s teeth clamped on his lip and he groaned weakly, seemingly unable to look away despite that. “Oh my god,” he choked when he managed to catch his breath, head falling back as Tyki’s tongue laved at his perineum. “Oh my god, you’re doing this,” he babbled, breathless, fingers white where he held his knees.

Tyki huffed a laugh and moved lower, brushed the flat of his tongue up Allen’s ass over his eager entrance. A surprised whine tore out of Allen’s throat, his body twitching at the sensation. Tyki considered he ought to give the boy a moment to breathe, lest he asphyxiate himself before Tyki even got the chance. “You alright there, boy?” he asked, the tease in his voice paired with the smirk on his lips. Allen jolted what might have been a nod and drew in a deep breath but if Tyki had wanted wordless answers he’d have gagged him. He tilted his head to the side, bit down on the boy’s ass hard enough to leave his teeth indented in the soft skin.

Allen yelped, squirmed, demanded, “ _Hey!_ Tyki what’re you-”

He smoothed over the mark with his tongue, flicking his eyes up to meet Allen’s indignant expression. “I asked you a question,” he murmured tauntingly, _“boy.”_

“I have a name,” Allen retorted, glowering.

“I know,” Tyki murmured, slipped his tongue out to trace around the boy’s entrance. “Allen…” he hummed slowly between his teasing gestures, “...Walker.”

He groaned weakly, dropped his head back against the desk. _“Fuck,”_ he gasped, toes curling against Tyki’s barest touch. “I love the way you say my name,” he confessed breathlessly while Tyki set to work swirling his tongue around his rim, gently working him open to push deeper with each wet thrust. “Your voice like that,” Allen continued between explorative sounds, “deep and hungry like you w- _want - hah!”_ He cried out a moan when Tyki sucked lightly, worked his tongue deeper. _“Tyki-!”_ His voice was sharp, clear, coloured with pleasure.

“Say, _Allen,”_ Tyki pulled back to speak, contemplative while he swirled a couple fingers around the boy’s slick hole and pressed them in. “You’ve never been rimmed before, have you?” He didn’t bother trying to keep the deep-seated satisfaction from his voice.

“No,” the boy admitted defensively, his breaths taking on an uncertain pitch when Tyki dipped back in to wiggle his tongue between his stretched fingers to work deeper into his hole. “It’s,” he panted out, _“weird,”_ he settled on in complete disaccord with the way his entrance fluttered hungrily around Tyki’s touch.

Tyki hummed in answer, his mouth a little occupied, and settled on making it less _weird_ and more _mind blowingly good._ If he was to be the first man to eat Allen’s ass then he was going to do it so well he’d be _ruined_ for whoever else tried. And while having Allen’s cheeks pulled tight with his knees against his chest certainly had its advantages, Tyki found himself with little to grab. So he pulled away, thrust his fingers tantalisingly a few times before pulling out in a slow drag - much to Allen’s _vocal_ appreciation. Until, of course, he was left empty and _far_ from finished.

“Stand up,” Tyki commanded over his question, not moving from where he knelt. Prime position to watch the boy unfold his legs and push to sit on the edge of the desk, lift himself to stand so the rosy head of his leaking cock was inches from Tyki’s face. His eyes drifted hungrily up Allen’s abdomen, mapping all the places he wanted to bite and pinch and scratch until that flawless stretch of skin wasn’t so flawless anymore. He lingered on the boy’s neck, bitten and bruised, and felt a vicious swell of satisfaction. When he finally met the boy’s dark eyes Tyki was smirking again and didn’t have to look down to see the effect his appreciative gaze had on him. It was written all over his face in the blush sitting high on his cheekbones, the lip caught between his teeth, the way his breaths came sharp with the thrill from Tyki’s wordless praise. How would he react if Tyki were more… _verbal?_ He had the feeling if he said too much the boy might end up crying - which was not actually his goal here. But partly because he wanted to watch Allen’s defences crumble and mostly because he simply _wanted_ to, Tyki figured he could say whatever he damn well pleased. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured quietly, “Allen.” His voice was low and heavy with intention, thick with desire and no small amount of adoration.

The boy’s jaw trembled with a repressed reaction to the words, his breath shuddering out uncertainly.

Tyki smoothed his hands over Allen’s feet, leaned forwards to press his lips to his thigh in an almost chaste expression of reverence. His fingers brushed over the delicate bones threaded beneath the boy’s skin, circled his ankles and slowly moved higher. “Hey,” Tyki murmured against him, drew his nose along the curve of his hip while his hands curled around the back of Allen’s calves, “say my name,” he breathed, pressed his lips into the hollow beside the sharp bone and breathed in the intoxicating scent of his skin, his arousal. His thumbs rolled slowly along the line of the boy’s knee, fingers flared over the swell of his thighs. “...In that pretty voice of yours,” he continued, eyes fluttered almost closed when he tilted his cheek into the hand Allen used to smooth back his messy curls, “like you’re about to come undone,” he murmured, ran his hands up the curve of his ass. “Say my name,” he repeated, pressed an openmouthed kiss to the bare stretch of skin beside his dick and sucked until a purple mark surfaced while his fingers kneaded into his cheeks.

A weak, surprised sound fell from Allen’s lips and his knees gave for a moment, one hand reaching back to catch himself on the desk while the other curled impulsively into Tyki’s hair.

“Allen,” Tyki pulled away to breathe, _“say my name like you need me.”_ He opened his eyes, looked up at Allen with an expression made raw with how much he _wanted_ the boy.

Allen’s breath caught, his red-bitten lips parted so he could whisper in a broken voice, _“Tyki.”_

Tyki licked a delicate stripe to the boy’s naval, felt the way he shuddered at the slight touch. “Louder,” he murmured and dipped his tongue in to tease the boy’s belly button.

 _“Uhn!”_ he flinched at the sensation and his hand tightened in Tyki’s hair. Tyki felt the way his ass clenched around the slight thrust of his hips, massaged his grip in answer. “...Tyki,” he obeyed, voice still subdued compared to the shameless noises he’d been making before. He sounded embarrassed - _shy_.

Tyki glanced up at him and saw a bright blush still covering his cheeks, the corner of his lip clamped between his teeth and his eyebrows bunched in an almost overwhelmed expression. It was adorable, really, and he was looking down at Tyki’s smirk with a fiercely confused gaze. Tyki darted his tongue out to lick his lips, watched the way Allen’s eyes flickered to catch the movement. “You like compliments that much, boy?” he asked, to which Allen responded with another heavy blush, his eyes going wide in shock.

“N-no!” he stuttered out, hand releasing from Tyki’s hair to press defensively against one of his red cheeks. “I’m-”

“Beautiful,” Tyki finished for him, his grin teasing but his voice gilded with sincerity.

“That’s…” Allen turned his head to escape Tyki’s gaze, the back of his hand pressed against his lips in a weak attempt to wipe away his blush.

“Provocative,” he continued and dipped his head to press a kiss to the boy’s stomach. “Irresistible,” he listed, sucked another mark onto his abdomen.

“I’m not,” he tried to refute, struggling between the desire to squirm away from Tyki in his embarrassment and his addiction to the way Tyki’s tongue danced across his body.

“You’re the sexiest tease I’ve ever had the honour of being baited by,” Tyki insisted with a wide grin, relishing the boy’s conflict. “And at the same time,” he added and pressed a chaste kiss to the tip of Allen’s hard dick so his hips thrusted forwards while he released a sharp cry, “the most innocent boy I’ve ever fucked.”

“You haven’t fucked me yet,” he gasped out between the emotional and physical overstimulation.

Tyki’s eyes slid open to pin him with a look heavy and sensual. “Turn around,” he instructed, voice dipping low to lace the command with suggestion. Allen’s lip was back between his teeth but his expression this time was more restrained anticipation than embarrassment. Tyki moved his grip so Allen could follow his command, ran his hands up the boy’s thighs once his back was turned. “Hands on the desk,” Tyki murmured and gave himself the pleasure of kneading the ass in front of his face, pressed an apology kiss to the bite mark standing out red against the soft white skin. Not because he was sorry, particularly, but it would probably bruise in a day or two. “Bend over a little,” he added, gently massaged his hands and spread Allen’s cheeks.

Allen leaned his elbows on the polished wood, a choked little moan escaping when Tyki spread him. His entrance was still slick with spit and Tyki pressed forward with little kitten licks, each slight touch of his tongue pulling a tiny sound from Allen’s mouth. He worked the tip of his tongue into Allen’s hole, moaned into the drawn-out whine the gesture dragged from the boy. The desperate sound cut off, muffled by his shoulder, and Tyki pulled back to frown.

“Don’t cover your mouth,” he pinched his ass. “If I wanted you to be quiet I’d shove my dick in it.”

“Tyki!” Allen scolded, the blush apparent even in his voice.

“Well,” Tyki defended and licked up the boy’s crack, “there’s a reason I haven’t done it.” He set out to make a point by rolling the flat of his tongue across his entrance until Allen couldn't hold back his choked groan. “I _love_ the sounds you make,” he praised and traced around Allen’s rim before plunging his tongue in with a wet wiggle and _sucking._ A loud cry fell from Allen’s lips and Tyki felt the boy’s legs tremble a little under the strain of not giving out. He drew in shuddering breaths but Tyki continued to work his tongue against him until every slick thrust into his hole made him sob out in need while his hips worked in time with Tyki’s movements, desperate for some kind of release, some kind of friction against his neglected cock.

But despite all his complaining the boy seemed accept that Tyki knew what he was doing, knew what would make him feel _best_ , because his hands didn’t move from where they clenched fists amongst Tyki’s paperwork. Even when his arms gave out to flatten his chest against the wood he never went so far as to grind his hips against the edge of the desk while each of his wrecked, desperate moans told Tyki _exactly_ how much he wanted to.

 _“Please,_ Tyki,” he choked out, voice edged with hysterical desperation. _“Please,”_ Allen begged and tilted his hips back for him. He cried out again when Tyki’s response was to swirl his tongue around the boy’s rim before fucking in as deep as he could. “I need-” he chanted, hips still thrusting desperately into nothing, _“more,_ ” he gasped, whines falling out of his mouth between words. “I _need_ you,” he sobbed with a desperate thrust of his hips, _“Tyki!”_ His hands splayed and clenched across Tyki’s desk, desperate for something to grab ahold of. Tyki pulled away with only a few more long drags of his tongue. It had the boy unabashedly crying out, “I _need_ you, ple- _ah! Please!_ Ty- _Tyki!”_ He breathed heavily when Tyki pulled back to knead his ass hungrily.

“You need me,” Tyki repeated, the thick desire in his voice a threat and a promise. “You need my dick?” he murmured, hands smoothing over the supple curve of Allen’s ass. The mention of his own aching member sent an overwhelming flood of arousal crashing through him but Tyki really could not give up the chance to tease the boy. “You need me to fuck you so good you forget everything but my name?” he asked with a grin in his voice.

 _“Yes,”_ the boy bit out, tilted his hips invitingly and glanced over his shoulder to pin Tyki with a glare.

Tyki hummed as though considering, slowly rising to his feet while pressing small kisses to the boy’s rump. “You want me to tear up this pretty ass of yours,” he mused, stroking his hand around to cup one of the firm cheeks.

“Yes,” Allen growled, dropping his head and thrusting his hips back against Tyki. _“Yes,”_ he repeated, frustrated, _“yes_ , I _want you,_ I need you _right now_ Tyki Mikk,” he snapped. A high-pitched yelp fell out of his mouth when Tyki’s hand slapped sharp against his ass, just hard enough to leave a pink mark on his skin. “Did you _spank_ me?” he demanded. The look he shot over his shoulder was more offended than impressed but either way he was probably more frustrated than anything.

“You forgot your manners,” was all Tyki supplied, brushing his hand gently over the mark to wipe away any lingering sting.

“I was _begging you_ just a second ago _,”_ Allen insisted, incredulity doing its best to win him over. “Don’t tell me you didn’t hear me say ‘please’ - it’s all I’ve been thinking for the past ten minutes.”

“But then you stopped,” Tyki retorted, a light smirk twisting his lips. “You don’t seem to understand,” he breathed, pressed his hips forward until he could rub his clothed dick against Allen’s ready entrance, “how much I _love_ hearing you scream.”

A choked groan fell past Allen’s lips and he rocked back against Tyki’s erection, breathing heavily beneath his petty bluster. “I didn’t,” he refuted. “I didn’t _scream,_ I-” His words cut off with a moan when Tyki ground his hips forward, chasing the hot friction he needed so badly, held back only to spite the boy twisting frustrated and needy beneath him. _“Tyki,”_ he gritted out, breathless. Tyki hummed and smoothed his hands over the dip and curve of the boy’s flexible spine, fingers mapping his twitching muscles. _“Please_ fuck me,” he bit out, tilted his hips to press his ass against Tyki’s arousal. “With a cherry on top?” he entreated sarcastically.

Tyki’s hand landed against Allen’s ass again and he jolted at the sting, a short yelp falling from his lips. “The cherry’s going to be your ass this this rate, boy,” Tyki commented blithely, “and I already ate that.”

Allen’s long, sobbing groan of frustration was muffled from where he’d pressed his cheek forcefully against the desk. Tyki rolled his hips, the friction nothing but a tease to either of them, and smoothed his hands up the curve of the boy’s shoulders to knot fingers into his soft white hair. The boy arched his head back when Tyki tugged gently, eyes closed and lips parted for his heavy breaths. “Mmf, that-” he gasped out, “is great oh _fuck.”_

“You’re suddenly quite talkative,” Tyki commented happily down by the boy’s ear while his free hand worked at his belt. “You can definitely keep _this_ up.”

“...But if you spank me one more time,” Allen gritted out, making his distaste clear, “we’re making babies.”

“You could just ask nicely,” Tyki murmured easily against the boy’s neck. “No need for threats. Hell, maybe I _like_ a good ball and chain.” Allen snorted a laugh and Tyki pressed his grin to the boy’s cheek in a quick kiss. “Spit on this, would you?” he asked and cupped a hand next to Allen’s sceptical face.

“Gross,” he commented drily but licked slick and warm across Tyki’s palm.

“If I’d known you’d be coming,” he muttered as he slipped his hand down his pants, groaning quietly at the long-awaited touch, “I would have prepared accordingly.”

“You don’t have anything else lying around?” Allen asked, twitchy while he waited for Tyki to slick his length as much as possible with the limited resources.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Tyki murmured, eyes slipping closed as he worked his hand over his length, “I love your ass. But you probably don’t want hash oil up there-” He broke off with a sharp breath when he rolled his thumb across the slit, smearing precome down his shaft. “...And I had other plans for that anyway, so I’d rather not.”

Allen made a vaguely disgusted sound and stated, “Please don’t use hash oil as lube.”

“Suggestions are open,” Tyki offered and opened his eyes to roll his thumb around Allen’s rim, pressing in to ensure he was stretched enough to take Tyki’s girth.

“Nnff,” Allen groaned appreciatively, sprawled across the desk as though Tyki had worked a knot out of his back rather than a finger up his ass. “That’s not your dick,” he grumbled against the wood.

“That,” Tyki agreed, “would have been incredibly anticlimactic.”

“No offence,” he murmured, face still pressed against the wood, “but all this foreplay has raised my expectations to an unattainable degree, so if you don’t have a dick at least _twice_ the size of a normal person’s I’m probably going to be disappointed.”

“It’s just a normal-sized dick,” Tyki muffled his laugh to say, “and it will be _anything_ but disappointing.” He ran his thumb around Allen’s entrance one last time, skeptical about just how far spit and precome would go as lube, before lowering a hand to the base of his erection and lining himself up.

The slick head bumped against Allen’s entrance and Tyki rolled his hips slightly, about to press in when the boy stiffened and pushed himself up, frantically calling out, “Wait! Wait, please wait oh god wait. _Please.”_

“What is it?” Tyki demanded, alarmed.

 _“Lube,”_ Allen groaned, tapping his forehead scoldingly against the desk. “In my pants, in my pocket. What the _fuck?”_

“You - oh my god,” Tyki dropped his head, more relieved than anything but also feeling the urge to slap Allen’s ass again. “How did you _forget?”_ he asked, whirling around to find the boy’s discarded slacks and dig through the pockets.

“I was a bit preoccupied,” he defended while Tyki was tangled up in pulling the pant legs in the right way and going through the pockets.

“Preoccupied with getting fucked? Because this is kind of integral to that,” Tyki hazarded drily, finally finding the small glass bottle.

“Preoccupied with _you,”_ Allen corrected with a short glare over his shoulder while Tyki came back, “and your… _you,”_ he refuted eloquently. Tyki laughed a little and wished for a moment that he had a camera to capture Allen right then. Elbows propped on the desk, shoulders all high and sultry, his back arched like a little slut and his hip cocked invitingly while he shot a righteous glare over his shoulder. Gorgeous in a way that had Tyki kind of wanting him to step on his dick.

Next time, he promised himself. Next time he would buy the boy stilettos and a riding crop and set him loose on Tyki’s body. “How much do you usually use?” he asked, grinning at the way Allen blanched and turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at Tyki when he answered.

“Not, um. Much?” Tyki saw his self-conscious swallow and stroked his hand down the boy’s spine to soothe him, like flattening the hackles of a nervous cat. _“Enough,_ obviously,” he babbled, ducking his head, “but…”

“But you want to _feel_ it,” Tyki finished for him, grinning when he let out an appreciative sigh and nodded.

 _“Yeah,”_ he agreed in a relieved huff and glanced over his shoulder with half a coy smile, bravado returning. “I want to _feel_ it.”

Tyki smirked and upended the bottle into his hand until he deemed _enough_. “Anything you don’t like?” he asked, glancing up to catch the boy watching him hungrily over his shoulder.

Allen ran his teeth over his lower lip while he considered. “Don’t hit me,” he stated, gaze darting back to Tyki's hands. “Get rough,” he allowed, eyes narrowing into a smirk, “bite, scratch, choke, whatever.” He was speaking so casually while giving Tyki permission to _take_ him. The arousal that flooded through him was half determination - a bone-deep desire to make the boy anything but _ambivalent._ “But don’t,” Allen grimaced, “treat me like your _toy._ Giving you my ass doesn’t make you _better_ than me,” he stated sharply.

Tyki grinned, found himself enjoying discovering these small pieces of Allen’s enigma. He leaned in, hands at his waist, and pressed his nose into the boy’s hair. He smirked against Allen’s neck while he rolled his hips to press his erection between Allen’s cheeks. “You think I could get hard for someone I didn’t respect?” Tyki purred against his neck.

 _“Mmf,”_ Allen dropped his head and ground back against Tyki, his devilish teasing making Tyki’s hips curl firm to meet him. “I like this dirtytalk.” Tyki could hear the breathless grin in his voice, felt his answering one in the corners of his lips.

Tyki bit a lingering kiss on the boy’s shoulder before straightening up, one hand spreading Allen’s ass and the other at the base of his cock. He wanted to _see_ this, oh _god._ His length was dark and slick and Allen’s hole was open and waiting and Tyki felt as though all his life’s experience of not busting as soon as he entered someone was simply practice for this moment because _holy fuck._ **_Damn._ ** Oh _god_ oh damn o _h fucking shit._ Allen took his head alright, choking out a high sound and leaving Tyki _overwhelmed_ for a moment before he could take his hand off his dick to roll and spread Allen’s cheeks. It really took an incredibly admirable amount of self control to not slam his length into him and fuck like and animal until they were both raw and senseless, but Tyki was a gentleman and a hedonist and intoxicated by the sensation every nerve being set alight one by one as he thrust slowly into Allen’s intoxicating heat. Fuck fuck _fuck_ his girth _stretching_ Allen’s entrance, the boy’s panting moans, Tyki’s breaths were coming sharp and already _filled with pleasure,_ warmth shooting down his spine until he moved his grip from Allen’s ass to his hips, pulled him to meet Tyki’s first thrust and dropped his head with eyes slammed shut to release an open-mouthed groan.

He stayed for a moment, gathered himself to the reality of his dick buried in this gorgeous minx’s pretty ass. Allen didn’t seem much one for an adjustment period, glancing over his arched shoulder and asking, breathless and coy, “You taking a break?” He clenched around Tyki’s girth, pulled a short groan and a sharp thrust from him. Tyki pulled back in a long, smooth movement and enjoyed the way Allen dropped his head to huff a shuddering breath, felt himself grin when his next thrust left him with nothing to say but, _“Oh!”_

“You’re going to ruin me,” Tyki breathed, laughed, let himself fall into a simple rhythm and lean down over Allen’s back with a hand on his waist and the other curled under the boy’s quivering stomach to hold himself up. “And I,” Tyki growled into Allen’s breathless moan, “am going to _ruin_ you.”

He closed his eyes to Allen’s intoxicated laugh, relished the sound and how it _felt_ when it shook through the body pressed against Tyki’s in every way. “Tear me to pieces, Tyki Mikk,” he said, breathy and debauched like nothing could make him happier.

 _Oh, I intend to._ He didn’t say, _couldn’t_ say when he could feel Allen moving with him in ways too unholy to speak of, to speak _over_ . Not such promises of mutually assured destruction, and even the curses Tyki mouthed against Allen’s skin couldn’t find his voice. Speechless in the face of how much this boy was giving him, of how much he _deserved._

He was fucking himself back on Tyki’s dick, meeting every thrust with a breathlessly fucked-out sound. “Deeper,” he commanded with every gasping moan, “deeper, _deeper - fuck harder_ **_yes!_ ** God-” Allen choked out, desperate and thirsty and full of Tyki’s dick. He _moaned_ and it was probably the hottest sound Tyki had ever heard past the slap of his ass meeting Tyki’s hips. Over and over, punctuating Tyki’s sharp breaths and panting groans of pleasure.

They were toeing the pool of pleasure-driven impulse and Tyki stood himself straight, clenched his fingers into Allen’s hips and pulled the boy back onto his dick with every thrust. The new angle had Allen crying out, desperate and twisting underneath him at the almost-there brush of Tyki’s length against his prostate.

“Please,” he gasped between sobbing breaths while his ass clenched tight and warm and _slick_ around tykis girth. “please oh fuck oh GOD _Tyki fuck_ I-” He whined, sobbed, _begged_ while taking Tyki’s dick like he couldn't get enough. He wanted more and more and _more_ and Tyki would _give_ it to him, anything he wanted. “Fuck me,” he gasped, head buried in his arms and his back growing clammy with sweat. “Fuck - _Tyki -_ fuck me,” like he wasn’t already, like Allen really _couldn’t_ get enough, like he was calling out those dark waves of _need_ crashing through Tyki’s body and mind. He clenched hot and tight around Tyki’s dick, another flood of pleasure threatening to drown him in the sensation of _taking._ “-mean it,” Allen lifted his head to gasp, his back arched and his hips snapping back to meet Tyki’s. “Like you _mean it,”_ Allen demanded as though he was already drowning in it, breathless and savage because he _knew_ what he wanted, knew Tyki was the person who could _relieve_ this part of him, the part that wanted to take and take and _take_ , the part that was never satisfied. The part that turned Tyki away from sex because killing was so much _funner._ “Like we’re dying,” Allen gasped because he wanted to feel _alive._ Tyki _knew_ it, he knew it like the black wave of impulse and lust and _pleasure_ that crashed over him, swept him up in the single-minded sensation of fucking someone who _wanted_ it.

“...llen,” Tyki gasped, more than breathless as he leaned down to press his chest against Allen’s gorgeous back, muscles working under the sheen of his light skin. _“Allen,”_ he groaned, low and dark with the blackness of his desire. His arms curled around the boy’s body, left hand sliding down his navel to massage along Allen’s heavy erection. His other arm curled around Allen’s chest, fingers clenching over the rapid pulse of his beating heart. Tyki dropped his head against the boy’s shoulder, breaths coming heavy and painted with moans while he pounded into him over and over. _“Fuck,”_ Tyki gasped, fingers scratching over his chest, “I can feel you,” he groaned, his hands like vices bruising Allen’s perfect body. “I want to _feel_ you,” he murmured, mindless and drunk and overcome and letting himself _drown_ in that sensation. “All of you,” he bit, teeth scraping sharp against Allen’s skin. His sweat was salt and dark vanilla, despite the way he threw his head back and clenched around Tyki’s dick being   _a n y t h i n g_ but innocent. “What does it feel like,” he growled, dark and lost in Allen’s hot, quivering body. “I wonder.” Voice low and rough, overflowing with lust and hunger and how _good_ Allen felt while Tyki pounded into his slick heat over and over. His fingers scraped over Allen’s chest, nails dragging red welts across his skin with enough sting to make him cry out. He jolted beneath Tyki, sensitive and overwhelmed and desperate to slam his ass back against Tyki’s hips with every thrust. Hard enough that the slap of skin was driving Tyki _insane,_ hard enough that his breath punched out of his lungs with a lustful whine every time Tyki snapped forward to meet him. He bit against the boy’s neck, fingers scratching over his nipple and making him jerk and sob something beyond words. “I wonder,” Tyki repeated, breathless and hazy, “what it would feel like to hold your heart in my hand.” Dark and hot and as ragged as his breathing, Tyki’s arms wound tight around Allen to keep him from falling apart.

He was strong, though. Stronger than Tyki knew how to give him credit for. He wouldn’t _break,_ but Tyki didn’t know how to be anything but careful. For all he wanted to tear Allen apart, he didn’t know how to _beat_ him. And Allen met him at every turn, outmatched and flexible and Tyki could _hear_ the grin in his moaning breaths, the taunt in the strength of his hips. _Is that all you’ve got,_ it sounded like. _Impress me, Tyki Mikk._ His fingers read it like Braille on Allen’s body, like a prophet reading God’s will in incense hanging thick and sweet in the air. Like worship. Like religion. Like sacrilege. Like they were Sodom and Gomorrah and they knew they were dying. _Fuck me like you mean it._

Tyki jerked his hand up Allen’s length, tight and slow enough to make him shudder and drag out a long, openmouthed moan. Allen’s heart thrummed against Tyki’s fingers and his dick twitched in his hand. Tyki bit down on his shoulder when Allen tightened around him, muffled his own drunken groan against Allen’s skin. Every motion was too much and not enough and Tyki wanted _more,_ he wanted to feel Allen’s body moving fervent against him, wanted to hear him yell and cry and come apart in Tykis hands, wanted to push the boy to the edge just to have him still standing and breathless for more. He wanted to take everything Allen would give, and he wanted the boy’s vicious pride to fight him the whole way.

“Fuck,” Tyki gasped with his eyes slammed shut against the damning view of Allen’s gorgeous body, fingers scratching and teeth biting while his hips bruised the back of Allen’s thighs. “Fuck- _fuck,”_ he choked out into Allen’s gasping moans. “I want to see your face,” he growled, eyes slipping open to catch the way the boy’s white hair clung and tangled on his damp skin. “I need-” The slick heat of Allen’s body was overwhelming, addictive. Tyki couldn’t help the way he fucked in again and again, the sensation of Allen’s hole stretching to take his girth, clenching to draw him deeper driving him _insane._ It was an aphrodisiac like none other and Tyki _needed to see his face_.

His shoulders were flushed red from arousal and when Tyki curled a hand into his messy hair and _tugged,_ he tilted his head back with a cry that shuddered through his entire body. Tyki felt the way he shook and clenched, gasped out a long moan at how Allen’s body wound tight with pleasure. His cheeks were red, his neck, all the way down to his heaving chest when he arched up off the desk into Tyki’s hands, onto Tyki’s dick.

“Show me your face,” he bit against Allen’s jaw, hand jerking hard and torturous along Allen’s length until he was shaking, _crying_ with each stroke, “Allen. Want to see your pretty eyes. Mouth open like you don’t know what to do with it but _scream.”_ He punctuated with a particularly sharp thrust.

Allen caught himself on the desk with a loud yell, his hips slamming back to meet Tyki’s next savage thrust. His head still arched back, Tyki’s hand fisted in his hair and tugging with every motion.

“..around,” Tyki gasped, hazy and overcome, “turn around.” It was a breathless demand, the consuming desire to see Allen’s face while Tyki ruined him the only thing that could bring him to stop his momentum. Tyki pulled out, leaving Allen needy and savage and desperate, and himself achingly hard and hungry for the heat of Allen’s body. “Turn around,” he commended again, voice a rough growl when he pulled Allen’s hair and used the hand he’d been working his cock with to urge him into flipping over.

He followed directions quick enough, pliant to Tyki’s manhandling despite whining the whole time and clawing at Tyki’s lapels once he’d turned around. “Aren’t you hot?” he gasped, dexterous but unsteady fingers working at the buttons of Tyki’s jacket.

“Unbearably,” Tyki answered with a groan, ducking his head to bite at Allen’s sweet neck while he dragged his fingernails down his sweaty back, rolling down the bunching muscles of his shoulders and the rut of his spine. While Allen tugged the jacket impatiently from Tyki’s shoulders, pulled frustrated fingers at his tie and buttons, Tyki’s fingers dug into his soft ass. He squeezed and spread Allen’s cheeks like putty, groaning when Allen jerked his hips and their weeping lengths were trapped in slick friction between their bodies. _”Fuck,”_ he choked, pulling Allen close and grinding for more heat against their dicks. “You’re a _demon.”_ He rutted against Allen’s stomach, dragged frustrated, desperate cries out of his throat. The boy’s fingers at Tyki’s buttons grew flustered and impatient, the shirt finally falling open when Tyki cupped his hands below Allen’s ass and lifted him onto the desk. “Can’t believe I ever thought you were innocent,” he grinned against Allen’s collarbone while he pressed his dick against Allen’s crease, easily finding his stretched entrance. “Ass like this,” he grunted as he slid in to the hilt, the head of his cock hitting Allen’s prostate in a way that had him yelling out, curling against Tyki - legs locked tight around his hips, strong arms tense around Tyki’s neck and his head buried against his chest. Tyki’s next thrust dragged out a desperate mewl - not loud enough to be a scream but on the verge of being a sob. “You take my dick so well,” Tyki growled against Allen’s ear, the slow, hard thrusts picking up the pace once more, “like you were made to be fucked,” Tyki gasped. “You’re so hungry for it,” he gritted while he reached behind his own neck, catching Allen’s wrists and forcing his arms to unlock their vice grip. Tyki tilted forward, slammed Allen’s arms down against the desk so his body had no choice but to follow. Allen cried out, arched against Tyki’s unrelenting hold until he could see red bruises forming under the boy’s pale, unmarked wrist. Fuck, it just made Tyki’s grip tighter, made him fuck deeper and harder into Allen’s needy hole. “Bet you want me to fill you right up,” he gasped, pounding into Allen’s shuddering, writhing body with his dick scraping that pleasure spot with every other thrust. “Wanna be so full of my come,” he continued, unable to stop the words with Allen’s red face, flushed chest, his heated silver eyes daring Tyki to do his worst, “feel it deep inside you, feel it leaking out of your dirty fuckhole, you little- _fuck!”_

His words cut off with Allen’s heady scream, his hands jerking under Tyki’s grasp when his dick hit the boy’s prostate head-on. He squirmed beneath Tyki, his legs locked like vices around his waist while his hips arched off the desk to try find that perfect angle again. “Say-” he gasped, bleary and breathless while his erection leaked precome across his stomach with every hard thrust. “Say it,” he choked out before a sharp moan overtook him. “Say it, say it - _fuck,_ Tyki,” he chanted, voice reaching a crescendo. _“Say-”_ he yelled, eyes slammed closed when Tyki traded those pounding, bruising thrusts for short, shallow jerks that had his head brushing over Allen’s prostate with every pass. _“Tell me!”_ he screamed, clenching hot and tight in rolling waves around Tyki’s girth. “Tell me-” he choked, face twisted in pleasure and desperation. “What,” he forced an eye open, glazed and hazy, “am I,” the corners of his gasping mouth twisted, taunted, the teasing command almost lost in the way he was losing himself. “What am I, Ty _ki-iii ah! I’m!_ Fuck, _YES THERE I’M -_ oh GOD, I’m-!”

The moment Tyki released Allen’s right wrist they both reached for his neglected cock, Allen’s hand fumbling for his length while Tyki’s fingers curled tight around the base.

“Fuck- _fuck!”_ he sobbed, hips jerking desperately at too much stimulation and nothing to do with it while his hand moved fervently on his length, trying to milk his orgasm out while Tyki’s tight grip on the base of his dick held him back from coming. _“What are you doing?”_ Allen demanded, hysterical and desperate. “I’m so close-” he sobbed, “I’m _so close soclosePLEASE Tyki!”_

Tyki groaned at the way Allen’s body clenched around his aching length in wave after wave of cut-off pleasure, fucked in hard and deep to get the most of that tight, rolling heat. “You come when I _say_ you come,” he growled, dark and threatening and ready to take and take and _take_ until he was _satisfied_ . “You gave me your ass,” he gritted, his thrusts turning long and hard when he released Allen’s black inked wrist, one hand at the base of Allen’s straining cock and the other resting heavy and threatening against his collarbone. “You’re gonna let me _take_ it,” he punctuated with a teasing brush against Allen’s prostate, “how I _want_ it,” he tightened his grip on his hard cock just enough to make him writhe and jerk. “Are you a good slut?” he asked, grinning breathless at the way Allen arched and moaned all high-pitched and needy. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Allen was twisting under his hold, sobbing out desperate breaths with his right hand moving furiously over his aching length, his left clawing at the hand Tyki had resting like a reminder just below his neck. “Yeah,” he whined, too far gone to form sentences, _“yes,”_ he choked, still pulling himself to meet each of Tyki’s thrusts despite how wrecked he was, how _ruined._

 _“Fuck,”_ Tyki groaned, eyes slamming closed while he let Allen’s hand tug his wrist up, let himself curl his fingers around Allen’s warm throat. The nails digging into his wrist weren’t warning, begging, _pleading._ Not in the way they usually were.

Tyki forced himself to look, forced his heady eyes open to see how Allen spread himself out for Tyki to take - every inch, his eyebrows bunched and his face crumpled into _need,_ his mouth gasping a litany of, _“Please,”_ and broken moans. But even like this, fucked out and on the verge of coming undone, he wanted _more,_ he wanted Tyki to _take_ and _take and_ **_take_ ** until they were both satisfied - not one of their paired desires left unmet. No matter how Tyki tore his boy apart, he’d never break. It wasn't _innocence_ that Allen had so much as goodness, and Tyki didn’t have the strength to destroy that. Even if he’d _wanted_ to.

Allen choked out a moan when Tyki’s hand tightened around his neck, thumb pressing almost lovingly into the hollow at the base of his throat. Skin so soft, pliant and bruised from Tyki’s lips and teeth and a surge of arousal flooded through him so strong that the rhythm of his hips stuttered and faltered at the realisation that Allen wanted his fingers imprinted there too, wanted Tyki to choke him and strangle him and have the evidence of his life in Tyki’s hands so he could look and see and _remember_ how it felt.

“Three taps to stop,” he gasped, watching Allen’s eyes for understanding.

He nodded, lips parted for panting breaths that Tyki could almost feel fluttering beneath his palm. His hand tightened brief reassurance around Tyki’s wrist and loosened like permission, eyes slipping almost closed. Allen’s hand hadn’t stopped moving fervently over his length, brushing against Tyki’s every now and then. Nor did Tyki stop the way he pounded into Allen’s ass, his rhythm growing haphazard as he felt tension and warmth coiling into a heated knot in the pit of his stomach. And his hand at Allen’s throat. Fingers tightening first, firm and vicelike around the boy’s neck. Strangling the blood flow, it was only a few seconds before Tyki could feel Allen’s heart beating frantically against his fingers. His face, already flushed red, grew darker and panting breaths were stolen through swollen lips until Tyki pressed the heel of his palm down. The column of his throat was rigid and Tyki could feel him work to swallow - work to _breathe._ Allen’s eyes fluttered closed in pain or ecstasy or both and Tyki’s lip was bitten almost bloody between his teeth when the heat in his abdomen grew and tightened, the rolling stutter of Allen’s body clenching around him and under him, hands desperate on his cock and clenched around Tyki’s wrist. Begging for more and _more and_ **_more_ ** until it was _finally enough,_ until choked cries were being pulled from beneath Tyki’s hand, until he was sobbing and falling apart as well as he could with Tyki holding him so tightly. Until Tyki’s orgasm was building and if he held on any longer he’d _scream_ so he did the only thing his scattered, base mind knew to do and released his punishing grip on Allen’s dick, matched his frantic strokes and couldn’t decide whether to keep his eyes on Allen’s face or look down between them as his gorgeous little slut came all over their hands.

Allen’s sobbing moan was _loud_ for all that it was choked and hoarse, his body arching and twitching as wave after wave of his long-overdue climax crested and washed over him. The shuddering pleasure that wracked through his body rolled over Tyki, buried deep inside and moving only in sharp jerks desperate to get deeper while his hand moved slick and covered in Allen’s jizz over his still-pulsing member. The cries Allen forced through his strangled throat, the heat of his body clenching around Tyki, the warm slick of his come on Tyki’s hand - he couldn’t hold on, didn’t _want_ to, had no reason to with the evidence of Allen’s orgasm dripping across his heaving stomach.

His cry was torn from his lips, hand clenching dangerously around Allen’s throat as he fucked through the mindless flood of his own climax. Peaking and climbing and peaking again, dick buried hot and pulsing in Allen’s quivering body. Allen, who still had the strength and the _nerve_ to buck down onto Tyki as he released, who looked like he was yelling wordless pleasure beneath Tyki’s too-tight, silencing hand. But he didn’t tap to let up and that alone dragged another shuddering crest of pleasure out of Tyki. He’d have stopped if Allen asked, but he _didn’t_ and Tyki didn’t regret the too-loud, gasping moans that Allen managed to drag out of him.

“Fuck,” Tyki choked, panted, _groaned._ Then, because he had no other words to compare: _“Fuck.”_ His hand loosened on Allen’s neck, rested there trembling while he dropped his head and pressed his face against his outstretched arm. He breathed heavily for a few moments listening to Allen cough and clear his bruised throat before he panted vehemently, _“Holy fuck.”_

“That good?” Allen asked and coughed a laugh, voice a little strangled. Tyki glanced up to see his breathless smirk and hazy eyes, his cheeks already back to natural blush red. Tyki moved his hand from Allen’s throat, the fingers clenched around his wrist falling limply to land on Allen’s flushed and heaving chest.

Tyki’s finger caught a tear dripping from the corner of his eye towards his white hair, concern momentarily overtaking him. “I didn’t…?”

“No,” Allen shook his head, brought his hand up to twine his fingers between Tyki’s. “No,” he repeated, hoarse, and pressed his warm cheek against Tyki’s hand, “I’m fine,” he answered eyes closed in a smile. After a moment spent catching their breath Allen’s eyes slid open and he pinned Tyki with a taunting look. “So…” he turned his head to cough slightly, mischief written in every line of his naked body. “...How’s that for a job interview?”

Tyki tutted at the jibe but grinned as he leaned down to capture Allen’s bruised lips in a sweet kiss. “I say you’ll be a valued member to our team,” he murmured, pulled away to add, “and I can't _wait_ to see you working the tables.”

“How do you make that sound,” Allen grinned and shook his head with a laugh, “...the way it sounds?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Tyki murmured against his cheek and pulled away to stand properly, trailing his clean hand down Allen’s side. “Besides papers and lube,” he hummed, eyes on the mess they’d made on Allen’s stomach, “you don’t happen to have a towel in those magic pockets of yours, do you?”

Allen huffed a laugh and shook his head, seemingly content to sprawl across the desk with rapidly-cooling jizz on his stomach and Tyki’s dick up his ass. “Fraid not,” he answered blandly. “Oversight, on my part,” he arched an eyebrow, “considering I was the only one at all prepared for this.”

“Considering,” Tyki retorted scathingly, “I assumed you were dead until roughly two hours ago,” he held up his soiled hand like evidence and stated, “this is hardly my fault.”

“Won’t have to think about it for a while if we go for round two,” Allen offered with a cheeky smile, bringing his foot up to press teasingly against Tyki’s chest.

“Oh no,” he stated blandly, holding the base of his half-hard dick as he pulled out of Allen’s tight heat with a quiet groan, “you’ve discovered the _real_ reason why I don’t fuck with adolescents.” At Allen’s snort of laughter and enquiring look he answered, “A refractory period.”

Allen lifted himself onto his elbows and drew his dainty little foot down the bare stretch of Tyki’s chest. “So do you have something to clean this up with,” he asked, eyes still playful while his toes danced small and pretty at the waistline of Tyki’s pants, an inch above his softening dick, “or am I just going to be covered in spunk for the rest of the evening?”

“It’s a good look on you,” Tyki grinned, catching his cheeky foot and sliding his hand up to the back of Allen’s knee. He slotted himself between the boy’s thighs once more to press a lingering kiss against his teasing lips. “I probably have a spare shirt laying around,” he reassured, dragging himself away from Allen’s hungry lips. Tyki turned towards the wardrobe by the wall and took a moment to tuck himself into his pants, grimacing distaste at the acknowledgement that having a wet dick in his underwear was still better than cumstain on his slacks. In the wardrobe he found several spare jackets and an overcoat - and sure enough, a shirt from the previous week when he’d had to change quickly for a function. Tyki first wiped his hands, cleaning them as best he could while he walked back to where Allen lounged well-fucked and satisfied amongst Tyki’s paperwork like there was no place he’d rather be. “You look comfortable,” he remarked with a small grin, dropping the shirt over Allen’s exposed length.

“I am,” he answered happily, using the soiled fabric to clean his stomach while Tyki buttoned his shirt and shrugged out of his jacket, folding it over the desk momentarily. His relief from the cloying heat was immediate and intense, washing over him like a happy sigh. Sweat clung the shirt to his back, but he didn’t seem to have an endless supply of spares. While Allen carefully wiped himself clean Tyki offered him the limited privacy of turning to pick up the discarded clothes for him.

“So,” Tyki hummed, folding Allen’s pants and shirt over his arm, “live up to your expectations?” he smirked while he wandered back to where Allen sat on the edge of the desk to offer out his clothes.

Allen plucked the shirt from Tyki’s grasp and tilted his head in consideration while he slid his arms into the sleeves. “I guess,” he allowed, contemplative.

“You guess?” Tyki arched a brow, more amused than offended.

“Well,” Allen laughed, kicking his feet for a moment before pushing himself off the edge of the desk and taking his pants from Tyki, “I don’t know _what_ I was expecting,” he reasoned as he stepped into them. “I expected it to be _good,”_ he offered with a smirk up at Tyki, “and it was. _Very_ good. But I wasn’t expecting particulars,” he allowed with a shrug while he buttoned his pants.

Tyki made a sound of acquiescence and pulled Allen closer by the open curtains of his shirt. “What would you think about before,” he asked, smile teasing the corners of his mouth, “when you came with my name on your lips?”

 _“Oh,”_ Allen huffed a grin, hands resting on Tyki’s hips while Tyki slowly buttoned the young man’s shirt for him, “all sorts of things,” he admitted with a coy smile. “Your hands,” he mused, voice low and on the verge of seductive, “gentle and rough and everything in between.” His own hands crept up Tyki’s body, looped easily around his neck. “Your mouth,” he murmured, eyes locked on Tyki’s lips, “sweet and harsh and filthy.” The grin twitched fully onto Tyki’s face when Allen finally met his gaze. “Your voice, mostly,” he whispered, tilting his head closer. “Low and sexy, asking how I like it.”

“How _do_ you like it?” Tyki asked, voice deep while his lips move a breath away from Allen’s, hands coming to a stop halfway down Allen’s stomach.

“Depends on the time of day,” he smirked, his words tickling Tyki’s lips. “But I’d always come,” he murmured, quiet and close like a secret, “when you said my name.”

“That so,” Tyki asked, lips moving against his, “Allen… Walker,” he hummed quietly into their kiss. It landed somewhere between lax and biting - both of them too well-fucked to try anything underhand, neither of them willing to let the other get the better of them. It resulted in heavy lips moving slow and confident against each other, tongues meeting in a heady drag of slick warmth. Neither broke away but when the intoxicating kiss came to a natural end Tyki murmured against Allen’s lips, “Care for a drink? There’s brandy or scotch.”

“I won’t have much,” Allen hummed, fingers tracing slow patterns on Tyki’s neck, “but go on,” he allowed with a grin.

“Which would you prefer?” he asked, pressing in one last quick kiss before he stepped away from Allen.

“Brandy,” he smirked, “for old time’s sake.”

Tyki shook his head in a laugh, stepping away towards the small table by the bookshelf laden with cut crystal glasses and two bottles of amber spirits. “Make yourself at home, I guess,” he gestured. “How is it you were able to tell it was cognac, back then?” he asked while he set up the glasses, almost impressed. “Wouldn’t have guessed you’d know.”

“I am…” Allen hummed slowly, regret and something like discomfort lacing his tone, _“intimately_ familiar,” he settled on, “with alcohol.”

“You don’t seem like much of a drinker,” Tyki commented, pouring two fingers of the rich brandy into their glasses.

“I’m not,” Allen answered as Tyki turned to find him lounging in the large chair behind Tyki’s desk, tugging open a drawer and glancing in with vague interest. “My… guardian,” he hesitated to say, eyes narrowing, “was more an alcoholic than anything else,” he disclosed, pawing boredly through the drawer's contents.

“Maybe don’t make yourself _that_ at home,” Tyki arched a brow at the way the boy absentmindedly rifled through his belongings as he set a glass in the boy’s hand and seated himself on the edge of the desk. “I could have sworn you had manners when you walked in here,” he commented, hardly bothering to sound reprimanding. It wasn’t as though he cared, really.

“I did,” Allen agreed amiably while he dug through the bits and bobs that had accumulated in Tyki’s desk over the years. “But I figured having your tongue up my ass was a pretty good icebreaker.”

“Oh,” Tyki announced pleasantly, “so you dropped the mask _after_ I showered you with compliments.” His lips twitched with a grin when Allen looked up to glare at him, a small blush riding on his cheekbones.

“You didn’t win me with _compliments,_ Tyki Mikk,” he rebutted and sipped his drink, “and I would hardly say I was ‘showered’ in them.”

“Well,” Tyki smirked and set his glass on the desk, stood up to lean over him. He pressed a hand against the backrest above Allen’s head and leaned in, his grin turning sly when he traced his fingers along the line of his jaw. “How about we fix that?” he suggested and tilted his head to press his lips against Allen’s. His mouth moved slow and seductive, the smooth friction of their touch intoxicating. Tyki’s hand slid back into his hair, curled and tugged a little so he could stroke his tongue into Allen’s mouth when he moaned low and quiet. He melted against the chair, putty to Tyki’s touch. He sucked Allen’s lower lip into his mouth as he pulled away slowly, the scrape of his teeth drawing a long, quiet groan of oversatisfied pleasure from the boy. “Over the past three years,” Tyki murmured against his ear, voice low and sincere, “you’re the best thing to come through those doors.”

“The best thing, huh?” Allen asked, eyes still closed while an entertained smile twitched on his lips.

“Let me put it a different way,” he grinned against the boy’s jaw. “I want to see you tomorrow,” he confided, the hand in Allen’s hair smoothing out until he was just holding him. The curve of his head fit perfectly against Tyki’s palm and he was _holding_ him and that was all. There was no follow-up thought, no surge of violent intent. “I want to see you and kiss you and ravish you as thoroughly as you’ll let me,” he murmured below the boy’s ear, “and that’s never happened before.”

“That’s your best compliment?” Allen asked, his question a wry tease but his voice low and private.

“I mean,” Tyki smirked, “your ass tastes like anyone else’s and you almost forgot the lube.” He pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek, then another to his lips where he lingered. “But yeah,” he whispered against his mouth, “I still want to see you.” He leaned in again, kissed Allen the way he _wanted_ to kiss him and when his neck started hurting from the angle he pulled away and straightened up, smirked down at the the breathless boy.

“I am utterly seduced.” He looked it too, but Tyki let him have his sarcasm.

“Join me for a cigarette?” he proposed, picking up the slim case from his desk and slipping it into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t smoke.”

Tyki gave him a look, smirked while he patted his pockets for matches. “I know,” he said easily. The only thing he’d tasted on the boy’s lips was sweet cognac and sly seduction, and cigarettes had a habit of lingering. “You can tell a lot about a man from his mouth,” he observed, let his eyes drop noticeably to Allen’s pretty little grin. “But regardless,” he hummed, stepping close and lifting Allen’s chin with a finger, “I’d like your company.”

“You’ll make me blush with all these compliments, Tyki,” he reprimanded with an amused smile but stood all the same. Tyki didn’t step away, kept his fingertips at Allen’s chin while their chests pressed close and breaths mingled in the bare space between them.

“I find,” he murmured quietly, eyes drifting slowly over Allen’s beautiful face, “I’ve run out of words.”

“And yet you still find something to say,” Allen returned and slowly smoothed his hands up Tyki’s lapels to rest comfortably against his chest. He looked like an angel, true enough. Hair spun from stars and all the heavens in his silver eyes and Tyki might think it was simply a mask for the devil inside him. But the boy had scars where Tyki couldn’t see and he figured there might just be a way to live with both. A few vague conversations was not enough to satisfy Tyki’s curiosity. “You’re thinking awfully hard,” Allen remarked, amused.

“I feel as though no-one’s ever figured you out,” he hummed, tracing his thumb across the boy’s lower lip.

He arched an eyebrow, vaguely amused and almost disappointed. “And you think you have?” he guessed, his teasing voice on the verge of being derisive.

Tyki scoffed a laugh and shook his head, finally stepping away. “Not in the slightest,” he admitted easily.

Allen snorted and his slender hands set to finishing Tyki’s abandoned efforts of buttoning his shirt, white fabric folding over the bruises Tyki had littered across his body as though they were a secret. The briefly defensive tension in his shoulders had loosened and Tyki wondered if he hated it that much, having people learn about him. Or perhaps he was simply too used to being misinterpreted. Perhaps Tyki was just another person who had him all wrong. Who presumes to know the mind of another man, but the man’s own spirit within him?

Still a mystery then, as it would always be if men who claimed to know God were to be believed. Tyki found the boy’s discarded shoes, stooped to pick them up and bring them over to him. “How’s your balance?” he asked as he took a knee, dropping the shoes by Allen’s feet.

“Impeccable,” he answered, stretching over Tyki for the ribbon he’d discarded on the desk. With a response like that Tyki didn’t bother to announce his intentions, instead slid his hand down the boy’s calf to the back of his ankle and lifted his foot delicately. “You look good down there,” Allen murmured while Tyki guided his foot into the shoe. Tyki glanced up to find him grinning down at him as he knotted the ribbon, a cheeky expression tinged with something darker. Tyki _loved_ that look on him, placed that foot down and leaned back as he lifted the other. He kept his eyes locked with Allen’s, an answering tease in his smile as he pressed his lips to the top of his foot.

“I always found it strange that fuckers help each other undress,” he said easily and picked up the second shoe, “but once the fucking was done, would always be left to dress themselves.”

“They’ve generally gotten what they wanted at that point,” Allen observed drily, finishing off the bow.

“Call it an expression of thanks then,” Tyki hummed and lowered the boy’s foot back to the ground. “For the fuck,” he elaborated needlessly, that teasing smirk back on his lips.

“How about you thank me with another?” Allen proposed, smiling at Tyki’s laugh and extending a hand to help him to his feet.

“You know the waiting game is my favourite,” Tyki grinned as he took the boy’s hand and stood. He laughed when Allen’s expression morphed from humoured to crestfallen to distressed in quick succession and kissed his hand to allay concern. “Three years, however,” he allowed, “would be unbearably excessive this time around.”

“It was unbearably excessive the _first_ time,” Allen gritted but didn’t pull away when Tyki brushed a hand through his hair in an effort to make him appear less debauched. He could only do so much when the boy seemed to radiate well-fucked satisfaction, but appearances were key. “A _week_ is excessive,” he grumped, playing with the ends of Tyki’s hair.

“Now that I’ve had a taste of you,” Tyki murmured, close and promising, “all I want is _more.”_ He grinned when Allen’s fingers curled against his neck and leaned in to press a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “Rest assured, there’s no chance of me waiting an entire week. Right now, however,” he stepped away, brushed his fingers through Allen’s silken-texture hair once more before reaching up to pull his own back into a semblance of order, “my priorities include having a smoke and ensuring my dealers aren’t running the house into bankruptcy.”

“Should I help?” Allen asked with a self-assured smirk.

“Boy,” Tyki laughed, picking up his jacket and making for the door, “tonight is the last night your income works at a loss to me. I expect you to take full advantage of that.”

“Why is that?” Allen asked, following beside him when they exited the office. Down the hall, out into the main room. “Wouldn’t you prefer to keep your assets?” he grinned.

Tyki shook his head with a satisfied smile. “Play whichever tables you want,” he gestured to the games around them as they passed through. “Once you’ve won, tell them who you are. Make a good impression or it’ll be hell and nepotism for me to get you working the floor.”

“Competitive business for games that rely on luck,” the boy grinned like a little devil, eyeing up the tables as they passed through the main room.

“Those who believe luck has anything to do with it,” Tyki reasoned, stepping aside to allow Allen through the main door, “have already lost.”

“Wise words,” Allen grinned, fingers tapping excitedly against his leg as he cast one more look over his shoulder before exiting the building with Tyki. “Surely you can smoke inside though?” he asked, gesturing back at the thick haze the patrons’ cigars cast, hanging heavy near the ceiling.

“I like the quiet,” Tyki shrugged, taking a few steps away from the door. “And when I’m in there every night, I tend to look for an excuse to step out.” Allen huffed a laugh and nodded, acquiescing. He tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the brick wall, craned his neck to look at the orange-painted sky. The dark red bruises ringing his neck peeked out from his collar and something that could have been arousal but probably wasn’t washed through Tyki. He reached a hand out to brush against Allen’s neck, touch gentle. “Sorry,” he murmured, part of him genuinely meaning it, “if I hurt you.”

Allen smiled and shook his head, eyes slipping closed comfortably. “It’s good,” he reasoned, happy and quiet. “It’s what I wanted.”

“It’s what I wanted too,” Tyki scoffed lightly, dropping his hand and slipping the cigarette case from his pocket. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he refuted, digging for the matches.

A quiet, exasperated sigh that was almost fond puffed past Allen’s lips. Tyki glanced up at him as he placed the cigarette in his mouth and arched a brow. “It hurts,” Allen admitted, bringing a hand up to brush against his abused throat. “I don’t mind,” he shot Tyki a look. “I like it.”

Tyki’s eyes fell closed on a laugh and he struck a match, lit the end of the cigarette and flicked the burning matchstick into the street. “That makes two of us,” he grinned, leaning his head back against the wall.

“I was meaning to ask,” the boy hummed with a smile, pulled a small black notebook from his pocket. “Do you write?”

Tyki’s heart stuttered a moment - he recognised the book in Allen’s hands. Knew it like he knew each of the faces caught in photographs stuck to pages opposing the names they belonged to. A mirror to the last time he and Allen had leaned against this wall, lips sweet with cognac and cigarette smoke. Only this time Tyki didn’t feel a rush of excitement so much as… well. _Dread_ . Strange. He hadn’t even _thought_ about that book or those names for… almost a year. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. There were no coroner reports left to read and no street rats arriving in his office with a photograph and a name and nothing more. And where information usually gave one power, Tyki’s jaw clenched nervously at the thought of Allen asking. Allen, who didn’t know. Somehow that gave him _so_ much power over Tyki. But… Tyki would make no move to stop him from opening it. What Allen found he would deal with as a result of his own actions. Tyki knew that about him, at least. “A little,” he answered the question, bland and noncommittal. He drew from the cigarette between his lips, but even the swirl of tobacco in his lungs did little to help him relax.

Allen arched a brow and opened the cover, began flipping through the pages. Tyki watched his expression from the corner of his eye while he moved deeper into the catalogue of Tyki’s portfolio, hesitating every now and then over an almost-familiar name. He watched the metamorphosis from amusement to confusion to intrigue, forced his jaw to unclench when Allen reached an abysmal understanding. “These names…” he mused, his face closed like the delicate wings of a butterfly.

“I’m sure you can guess,” Tyki murmured, locked his eyes on the buildings lining the street so he wouldn’t have to see the familiar expression of hatred on Allen’s face. Three years was a long time. Things changed. Tyki, it seemed, wasn’t so impervious to the passage of time as he’d thought. Allen, however, and the words Tyki remembered him saying with only a murderer and God as witness...

_I’ll never forgive the person who did it._

Perhaps he’d changed less than Tyki thought.

He was silent for a long time, and Tyki found he didn’t know what to do with that. Partly expected Allen to walk away. Mostly expected something more violent. Allen flicked quietly through the rest of the pages, landed on the final entry.

Tyki couldn’t help but glance at his face, reading nothing in his perfectly still hands. Emotions were warring subtly in the twitch of his lips, the small crease that formed between his brows. Tyki swallowed and looked away, found he didn’t want to watch how it played out.

Allen closed the book quietly and when he spoke, low and quiet and deadly serious, Tyki could hear the stiff tension curled vicelike around his lungs. “I’d ask what it is, but it seems clear.”

Tyki pulled from his cigarette, found he had nothing to say. He wasn’t about to defend himself. There wasn’t a thing he could say in that regard and at least he could claim he was still the kind of person who would never ask forgiveness.

Allen sighed almost too quietly for Tyki to catch and leaned back against the wall, his hands and the small book pressed against the brickwork. From the corner of his eye in the low light Tyki could make out the way his fingers dug harsh into the grout. “My name is on the last page,” he said quietly, firm voice refusing to curl into a question mark.

Tyki breathed out the smoke in his lungs slowly, felt his head spin a little from holding it in so long. “You died three years ago,” Tyki murmured, voice quiet with certainty, “in circumstances beyond my control.”

It was silent for a long, long time and the light breeze which twisted along the street felt almost enough to topple Tyki over. _“Were_ they beyond your control?” Allen asked finally, still something close to emotionless.

“Does it matter?” Tyki retorted, voice almost scathing, almost biting. He clenched his jaw against his tone, brought the cigarette to his lips with almost-steady hands. In the long silence the smoke fell silently from Tyki’s lips and hung in the air, a slow cloud billowing and dispersing. “I don’t regret it,” he murmured after Allen’s wordlessness had lasted almost a minute.

“Killing the others,” he asked, not even rage freezing over his voice - nothing but cold ambivalence, “or sparing me?”

Tyki shrugged when he found he didn’t have an answer. “Both,” he hummed, feigning disinterest with a mouth tasting of ash. “Either,” he corrected himself, blinking a wince at the slip. Pulled in a quiet breath to try tame the anxious shudder of his heart.

From the corner of his eye he saw Allen’s lips twist with discomfort, as though he didn’t enjoy the bitter taste of whatever words sat on his tongue. He chewed on them for a moment, the muscle in his jaw working before he spoke. “It’s not that I forgive you,” he spoke quietly, more contemplative than cold though his brows creased in frustration, “but there are no recent names. Three years is a long time,” he glanced up at Tyki, something like reluctant hope in his expression.

“I’m retired,” he smiled without humour, ashed his cigarette and brought it back to his lips. “But if you think I’ve changed, you’re wrong,” he lied. Was it a lie? It _felt_ like one. The smoke was suffocating but he needed something to do with his mouth. Needed another few moments before he had to speak, respond, _explain_ himself with as much honesty as he could manage. Not a good start, but it was difficult when his most recent discovery included that he was different than he remembered. “If I was asked to kill tomorrow I’d do it.” That was true, at least. “You know I would.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Allen retorted, cut a glare at Tyki’s profile. “But you won’t be. Not if you’re retired.”

Tyki sighed, sharp and almost angry. “That doesn’t _mean_ anything,” he bit out. “What you need to grasp,” he lowered his voice for the sake of anyone who might be nearby, “is that I didn’t hate killing Suman Dark and Daysia Barry and whoever else.” Allen was standing tense, hands fisted in his pockets and looking as though he was struggling with his patience to not interrupt. “I _enjoyed_ it,” Tyki stressed in an undertone, voice tight. _“That_ is what you need to understand about me.”

Allen jerked his chin up, stubborn and on the verge of anger. Unable to hold his silence any longer he snapped, “You told me to _hate_ you.” He glanced to the street briefly and lowered his voice despite pedestrians never having passed them before. “So what I _understand about you,_ Tyki Mikk,” he hissed, “is that you’d rather have someone hate you than forgive you.”

Tyki shook his head, huffed out a humourless laugh because _what the fuck. “Please_ don’t psychoanalyse me,” he retorted. “You won’t like what you find.”

“I don’t know much about you,” Allen admitted quietly, “but if this is your hand,” he held up the book with a scathing expression, “then allow me to deal in.” Tyki arched a brow, nothing near expectant but knowing he’d get nowhere by trying to talk over him - even if he’d had anything to say. “You kill,” Allen said simply, fierce glare not letting up. “You lie and cheat and are anything but moral to anyone who says they care about things like that.”

“And you’re trying to tell me you don’t?” Tyki hazarded, skeptical.

 _“Listen,”_ Allen ordered, “and no, that’s _not_ what I’m saying,” he bit out, damn near furious. “Because to anyone who doesn’t have a stick up their ass about the law would realise you’re not the least bit amoral.”

“Do you always curse when you’re agitated, or am I special?” Tyki mocked, grinning down at the frustrated young man.

“You _are,”_ he barked, shoving a rough hand against Tyki’s chest. God, he was… really genuinely angry. Like, enraged. And Tyki’s refusal to take him seriously was _really_ not helping allay that at _all._ “You talked about ‘corrupting the youth’ but I had to _throw_ myself on you before you would even touch me,” he spat out, looking as though he’d like to hit Tyki somewhere it would hurt. “You say you’re a bad person, but when I came and asked for consolation you gave it. You told me what I wanted to hear, even if it was the wrong thing. You told me to hate you because it was the _right_ thing.”

Tyki sighed, dropped his head as he shook it. “So you’re doing exactly the opposite?” he asked as though for clarification, almost as frustrated as Allen was. “Any reason, particularly?” he demanded sarcastically. “Out of spite?”

“Or bias,” Allen muttered, stepping back to lean against the wall with tense shoulders and an unhappy frown. “Maybe I’m just making excuses,” he glared down the street, away from Tyki. “So,” he shrugged, “whatever. You don’t want forgiveness, I don’t have any.”

“You’re an aneurism waiting to happen,” Tyki muttered, scowled at how his cigarette had burned all the way to the filter.

Allen kept his head turned when he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?” with the scowl visible in his voice.

“Made of contradictions,” Tyki answered, dropping the butt and stepping on it while he slipped a hand into his pocket for his case and matches. “And apparently only half of them are fun. True to form.” And he was officially chain smoking, many thanks. Black lungs to match a black heart. Allen fucking Walker. Tyki still had questions but they were only the ones he shouldn’t ask. That in mind, he lit the new cigarette and savoured the first drag, opened his mouth to ask anyway. “Are you going to disappear again?” His words were too heavy for the smoke to take form, shapeless puffs disappearing too quickly.

“Do you want me to?”

Tyki cocked his head, glanced at Allen with a small frown pinching his brows. It had nothing to do with what Tyki wanted. Allen was the one who should be hurting. But… if he were that simple, would Tyki have even looked twice? He _was_ contradictory, and it was every bit what made Tyki want to take him by the shoulders and shake him, or take him by the waist and kiss him. Impressive at every turn. Maybe, to Allen, it _was_ about what Tyki wanted. He scoffed a laugh more incredulous than amused and shook his head disparagingly, turned his gaze back out to the empty street. “I already told you what I want.” Tyki didn’t understand him at all.

“Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

Tyki bit his lips to smother his laugh and closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall. “I don’t understand you at all,” he stated his thoughts plainly. “You can’t just want what I want,” he reprimanded. “That’s no way to live.”

“I don’t,” Allen refuted firmly and Tyki opened a single eye just so he could see that cute frown of his. “The two just happen to coincide.”

“Knowing what you know about me,” Tyki summarised slowly, “our two desires _happen_ to coincide?” Allen gave him a look as though to say he shouldn’t bother trying to look into it but Tyki made an art of reading people’s tells. “From what little I know about you,” he mused with a small smile, “that seems an extremely unlikely phenomenon.”

“More likely than you think,” Allen glowered across the dark street, refusing to meet Tyki’s gaze.

He let his eyes slip closed and brought the cigarette to his lips, drawing the smoke into his lungs. The silence stretched between them and Tyki wondered how long Allen would pout. The enigma was fun and all but withholding information for the sake of withholding information would get them nowhere.

“You’re warm,” Allen said finally, voice quiet and touched with lingering irritation. Tyki glanced over and watched his stubborn face but said nothing, content to let him find his own words. His slim shoulders hunched a little, self-conscious under Tyki’s scrutiny. He took another minute or so to figure himself out before he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall, eyes on his feet. He sighed, scuffed his shoe against the ground. Frowned at the buildings lining the other side of the street. Looked back down at his feet. Sighed again. “It’s complicated.”

“You think I’d care enough to ask if it wasn’t?” Tyki asked, voice dripping boredom.

Allen huffed a small laugh and ducked his head a little, shoulders still tense. “Okay,” he allowed, “it’s _not_ complicated.” Tyki rolled his eyes slightly but remained silent. Allen shuffled his feet and sighed again, glanced at Tyki from the corner of his eye. “You’re _warm,”_ he repeated, this close to pouting.

“You’re going to have to explain what you mean by that,” Tyki remarked, pulling from the cigarette and letting the smoke trail slowly from his mouth.

Allen dropped his arms and turned to Tyki, frustrated glower sitting on his brow. _“Here,”_ he stressed, pressing a firm hand against Tyki’s chest. Tyki arched an eyebrow and blew his smoke away from Allen’s face without dropping his waiting eyes from Allen’s glower. “I can feel it,” he muttered, hand pinning Tyki against the bricks. “Beating,” his frustration ebbed into embarrassment.

“A heart?” Tyki guessed, almost smiling. “There’s not a good man to be found working in a casino, Mister Walker,” he reminded. “I’m hardly a diamond in the rough.”

“You’re not a good man, Tyki Mikk,” Allen answered, reprimanding. “But there are worse ones. And monsters don’t have them,” he insisted, taking half a step closer. “Demons don’t have hearts.”

“Would you know the difference?” he asked, quiet.

“Wouldn’t you?” Allen returned, the hand on Tyki’s chest gentle and warm. “I don’t think a demon would wait three years,” he murmured, close and quiet. “A demon wouldn’t put my shoes on for me,” he ducked his head with a small laugh. He glanced up, silver eyes pretty under white lashes. “Surely,” he said, voice almost a question, “he wouldn’t kiss me like that. If he didn’t mean it.”

“Whether he meant it or not,” Tyki hummed, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair away from Allen’s cheek, “he killed people with those hands.”

Allen caught his hand, kept his gaze locked with Tyki’s while he pressed his lips to the gentle fingers. “Once,” he said simply, eyes slipping closed in a smile. “If we all stayed what we started out as, I’d just be some clown.”

Tyki scoffed an amused laugh, arched a teasing brow. “You’re trying to tell me you’re not?” he laughed, pressed his fingers to Allen’s silk lips and took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping the butt and scraping it out on the sidewalk. “Should we put those talented hands of yours to work?” Tyki asked, his grin teasing the corner of his mouth.

Allen smirked, his chin lifting a little cockily, and he reached into Tyki’s jacket to slip the book of dead men’s names into his pocket. “Thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, leaning up to press his lips against Tyki’s in a gentle kiss. It broke when his laughter spilled into Tyki’s mouth, both of them grinning far too much to be conducive to a kiss. “Come watch me bankrupt you,” he invited, teasing and happy.

For all that Tyki wanted to fault his choices, he couldn’t help but follow Allen back into the casino with the intention of enjoying every moment of it.


End file.
